Dancing with Destiny, 12th in the Dance series of Forever Knight fan fiction





 
#13 Dance with Destiny 
by Lorelei Sieja
 
(This story is an xover with Early Edition. It should not be necessary to be 
familiar with that show to enjoy this story, but if you would like more 
information, or to see a picture of Gary, click here.)
  Chapter one:  
  Nick stopped, the halyard in his hands and the jib fluttering in the breeze. 
  Vachon glanced at him. "What, Knight?" he asked. 
  The elder vampire did not appear to have heard. He looked with sightless eyes; 
  then a wary smile graced his handsome face. "We will have a guest," he said. 
  Vachon glanced skyward. He could not see anything yet. "Who is it?" 
  Nick loosened the halyard, dropping the jib again. "We had best postpone our 
  departure until we find out what he wants. You'll need to break out the finest 
  for him." 
  Vachon grumbled, cursing in Spanish, as he went to comply. His twin had told 
  him several weeks ago that Nick might be in danger. He had hoped to get him 
  back home to the relative security of LaCroix's domain before trouble erupted. 

  "You don't need to worry," Nick said softly. "I think he is a friend. I'm just 
  not sure why." 
  Perry glanced up mournfully from his place on the spare bed. Vachon grinned at 
  him. The carouche had bit him before, chastising him for endangering Nick when 
  they spent the day in a thin canvas tent. He was going to enjoy the payback. 
  "Can I get you something to drink, too, carouche?" he asked. He swayed from 
  side to side, accentuating and exaggerating the rise and dip of the boat as it 
  rode the gentle waves. 
  The carouche growled menacingly. He rose on unsteady legs and managed a half 
  circle, turning his face into the wall. Then he plopped down again with a 
  groan. 
  Vachon searched through the labels on their stock. Bovine for the carouche, 
  human - uncut for general consumption, and with wine for guests, and still a 
  single bottle of LaCroix's own. Among the special cut varieties was one Vachon 
  recognized as LaCroix's favorite blend. This he reached for and the uncut for 
  Nick, then he brought out three wineglasses. When it was just he and Nick, 
  they didn't usually bother with glasses, but for the guest he assumed it would 
  be proper etiquette. 
  As he climbed back up the narrow little stairs he saw a dark figure drop from 
  the sky. The strange vampire landed next to Nick, dwarfing him. Nick was not a 
  small man and he had regained some of the weight he had lost during his 
  prolonged illness, but the other one was huge. He was at least six four, maybe 
  more, and had to go close to 280 pounds. He was black, with tightly curled 
  black hair and his clothing was all black. The pale moon reflected eerily on 
  his white teeth and the whites of his eyes. His voice, when he spoke was in 
  striking contrast. It was soft and gentle, like a shepherd's voice. 
  "Good evening, Nicholas," the vampire said, his lips drawing back in a 
  friendly smile. 
  Nick did not look entirely at ease, but he extended a hand in greeting. 
  "Welcome aboard," he said. "Zuhayr, Master of Algernia, Aenid, and Rownan, 
  Cofounder of the Law, Elder of the High Council, Distinguished Leader of our 
  race, this is my companion, Javier Vachon," he said, as he began the formal 
  introduction. "Javier, twin of Amaru, Child of the Goddess of Lake Titicaca, 
  meet Zuhayr." 
  Vachon wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans before accepting a handshake. "Nice 
  to meet you," he said, hoping the ancient wouldn't see it for a lie. 
  Zuhayr chuckled, his chest shaking. "And you, young one. Any friend of 
  Nicholas's is certainly someone I am eager to know." 
  "Thanks, Nick," Vachon muttered. He poured out drinks, suddenly grateful to 
  have that small task to perform. 
  Nick inhaled before tasting his beverage, taking only a small sip. It still 
  wasn't sitting well like it should. He almost wished Vachon had brought up the 
  last bottle from LaCroix, although they had several days' journey ahead of 
  them. He should save it as long as possible. 
  Zuhayr accepted the glass, but instead of stating his business, he glanced 
  around the boat appreciatively. "Nice little sloop," he said. "Had her out 
  much?" 
  "No. Coming here was our maiden voyage," Nick said. "We haven't owned her 
  long." "I've done some sailing myself," the ancient reminisced. "On a tiny, 
  papyrus reed boat, from Morocco to Barbados... but that was ages ago. Who was 
  your master, Javier?" 
  Vachon shrugged. "She never told us a name. She went to greet the sun a few 
  hours after she brought us across." Zuhayr scowled disapprovingly. 
  Nick was uncomfortable. He knew that vampire masters were supposed to assume 
  responsibility for their progeny, and yet, there were times he coveted 
  Vachon's freedom. He set his glass down, no longer sure if he could finish it. 
  "I wasn't sure if I would see you again," he said, trying to change the 
  subject. "After last night." 
  "What happened last night?" Vachon blurted. 
  "You handled yourself well," Zuhayr said. Then he answered Vachon. "Nicholas 
  faced his enemy and was victorious." 
  "You should have called me," Vachon said, getting angry. "I would have 
  helped." 
  "No, Javier," Zuhayr interrupted. "He had to face the attack alone. Now the 
  others will spread the word that Nick can handle himself. They will think 
  twice before going up against him." 
  "How is Joe doing?" Nick asked. It bothered him that he had been unable to 
  sense the extent of his enemy's injuries. He should have taken his blood in 
  the fight. Joe expected him to, had expected him to drain him and behead him. 
  Nick shuddered, as vampire justice was often too extreme. 
  "I took care of him." Zuhayr's voice had a firm, final sound that frightened 
  Nick. 
  "You didn't? Kill him?" he whispered. 
  "No, Nicholas. I did ensure that this was one lesson he learned well. He now 
  has a healthy respect for any one older than he is. Then, I healed him. He 
  should be half-way to Greece by now, where he will make a full report and 
  resign from his position." 
  Nick nodded thoughtfully. It was enough. Vachon tossed back his drink and 
  twirled the empty glass restlessly. Time was wasting... he was eager to set 
  sail. 
  "Will you be sailing with us?" Nick asked hesitantly, out of courtesy. 
  Zuhayr set his glass down on the tray and tilted his head to gaze up the 
  length of the mast. "Yes, I think I will. Tell me, young Javier, how is she 
  rigged?" 
  Vachon groaned silently. He sent Nick a glare, which the blind vampire was 
  certain to sense. Then as he began once again to raise the sails, the 
  adventure overshadowed all else. 
  The winds were stronger than before, but coming from the northwest. It would 
  take a series of tricky tacks to maneuver down the St. Lawrence into Lake 
  Ontario. He forgot Zuhayr was an all-powerful ancient as he bossed him around 
  the boat. Nick chuckled softly. He shook his head, conjuring up the mental 
  image of the scruffy Spanish fledgling commanding one who had been council 
  elder even when LaCroix was yet mortal. 
  The dip and swell of the waves was gently lulling. He leaned back and felt the 
  wind on his face. The moon's soft touch warmed him. He thought back over the 
  past eight months to the day he had lain beneath the sun and stared at it in 
  all its fiery glory. It had altered his life in ways he could never have 
  predicted. It had not all been bad. He was learning more about who and what he 
  was and who he wanted to be. He hadn't learned the answers yet, but at least, 
  he knew the questions. 
  "C'mon, Nick," Vachon coaxed as he tried to pull him to his feet. 
  Nick followed sleepily. He felt the hands assist him in undressing and getting 
  in to bed, then he felt a cool, wet tongue on his cheek. "G'night, Perry," he 
  whispered. 
  Mid-day Nick awoke, ravenously hungry. He found the small refrigerator, but 
  did not bother to search for a glass, sipping instead from the bottle. He 
  cocked his head and turned towards the presence at the table. "Zuhayr," he 
  said. 
  "I'll have to get me a boat," the ancient mused. "I haven't been out on the 
  Mediterranean in ages." 
  "What's this all about," Nick said. 
  Zuhayr smiled indulgently. "To what do you refer, child?" 
  "I'm not a child. And you know what I mean. Why are you here?" 
  Zuhayr chuckled, which only further annoyed Nick. 
  "You came to Montreal to investigate me. Now what? Have I "passed" your 
  barbaric justice system? Or am I only being fattened up for the kill?" 
  "Nicholas. I know you have been under a lot of strain, and so I shall pretend 
  that your tone is not as insulting as it sounds." Zuhayr allowed the full 
  force of his power to brush across the younger one for a moment. 
  Nick clenched his teeth as he struggled to bring his anger under control. He 
  grew tired of the power games, the senseless violence of the culture he tried 
  to deny. He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, tentatively reaching 
  out to sense Zuhayr. 
  "Now, Nicholas," Zuhayr said, breaking the long silence. "If you have a 
  grievance, I should like to hear it, without the sarcasm." 
  Nick flinched. This vampire was not LaCroix, he reminded himself. "Why do you 
  care what happens to me? Why did you come to warn me about Joe, mediate the 
  fight, and then heal him of the injuries and not me? Why are you here now?" He 
  closed his mouth, before he could dig himself in any deeper. His stomach 
  tightened. Then he heard the familiar chuckling. The ancient Nubian vampire 
  reminded him of the jolly red-suited fat elves of mortals' Christmas season. 
  "You, Nicholas, are delightful. You are refreshingly honest and of high 
  character. I hope that if you survive your foolishness, you will consider 
  joining me in the Council." 
  Nick's mouth dropped but no sound issued forth. 
  "Ours is a dying race. We are on the brink of extinction. Our young seldom 
  survive, and our old no longer care. We must learn to change our ways or we 
  shall simply cease. This is my mission. I have had my eye on you for some 
  time, Nicholas." 
  Nick shrugged, feigning indifference, but he felt like squirming under the 
  ancient's scrutiny. "I couldn't serve on any council that places so little 
  value on a life. Our laws are harsh. Our ways are cruel. We do nothing, 
  contribute nothing. We are but parasites on the world." "You criticize what 
  you truly do not understand," Zuhayr chided gently. "You think you know our 
  ways, you - who deny yourself the simplest pleasure of a blood kiss. We have 
  no written record, no history books, and no oral traditions. Our ways are 
  passed along through our blood; yet, with whom have you shared outside of your 
  own family? A few orphans and misfits?" 
  Nick fiddled with the bottle in his hands. A blood tradition? Was there ever 
  anything in the history of his race worthy of commemorating? Was there ever 
  even one socially redeeming virtue? He would have laughed at the absurdity, if 
  anyone but Zuhayr had been there. 
  "We are attempting to change our code, Nicholas," Zuhayr said then, 
  interrupting his thoughts. "But that is only part of the problem. We are 
  trying to reach the ancients of our race, and urge them to raise families, to 
  take responsibility for their young. Even LaCroix is at fault. Who has joined 
  his family in the last thousand years, besides you and Janette?" 
  "He has two infants now," Nick said defensively. 
  "Really? Then why has he not presented them?" 
  Nick thought back. There had been some ceremony in the spring all those 
  centuries ago. He had been so young and foolish then, idolizing his master, 
  and the ceremony had terrified him, surrounding him with drooling, pawing 
  ancients, each wishing to steal him away from his master's protection. He 
  shuddered involuntarily. 
  "I must apologize," Nick said then. "Last spring LaCroix was worrying over me. 
  I'm sure the duty of the ceremony just slipped his memory." 
  "Then you may inform him that I shall expect to meet these children at the 
  next Feast of Lilith." 
  Nick smiled, wondering what Zuhayr would think of his little brother, Don 
  Constantine. He would accompany LaCroix, though, and do all in his power to 
  protect Tracy from harm. The rights of fledglings had improved a little in 
  eight hundred years, but not enough. 
  "When you come of age," Zuhayr continued, "your knowledge of mortal law, your 
  honesty and your integrity will be a welcome addition to the council." 
  "I am honored, my lord," Nick replied humbly. 
  "You should be! You have some catching up to do, though. You need to spend 
  more time among your own kind. You will discover a culture that just may 
  surprise you. Your master is only one vampire. He is not typical of the race." 

  Nick hesitantly sipped some more before replacing the cork. A yawn threatened 
  to break free... he needed to return to sleep. Zuhayr took the bottle >from him 
  and returned it to the refrigerator. 
  "Come, Nicholas. Come share with me." 
  He stood, wary and uneasy. The invitation, although softly given, was no less 
  of a command. He felt a moment of anger, wanting to refuse, wanting to declare 
  his independence, and yet, his undead heart picked up a beat at the offer. His 
  fangs exploded into his mouth. 
  Zuhayr led him away from the table. He pulled Nick around, pressing Nick's 
  back against his chest, his arm around Nick possessively. Nick fought the 
  instinct to flee, struggling to contain his fear at the submissive position. 
  Zuhayr's chin scraped against his smooth throat. Zuhayr's free hand explored 
  the smoothness of Nick's bare chest before trailing up, tilting his head to 
  expose the vein now pulsing with need. 
  "This is what we are," Zuhayr murmured, his breath a quiet fire in Nick's ear. 
  "We are a people of passion... of desire. Tell me you want this, Nicholas!" 
  Nick wanted to deny it. Zuhayr was not saying anything LaCroix had not tried 
  to drill in to him for centuries, only Zuhayr was winning. Nick wanted it. He 
  wanted the ancient to bite him, to drain him, and then to sustain him in the 
  circle of blood. He fangs throbbed. He forgot all, the boat, his blindness, 
  his quest, and all that mattered was Zuhayr and the release he could offer. 
  "Say it!" 
  "I want it," Nick cried. "Take me!" 
  As Zuhayr plunged his fangs into the soft flesh, Nick groaned in ecstasy. He 
  went limp in the elder's embrace, giving himself up to the moment. Only a 
  glimpse of the ancient's life crossed over through the bond formed in blood. 
  Nick saw him for the first time, his dark, handsome face, flashing white 
  teeth, a look of seduction and mystery hidden in eyes as black as night. He 
  sensed Zuhayr's passion for the ordinary, his delight in the simplest of 
  life's pleasures, from watching dew settle on a spider's web in the predawn 
  hours to admiring one of his many progeny succeed in some new challenge, even 
  to the simple adventure of sailing again. 
  Zuhayr held him close, lovingly, as he brought his wrist to Nick's lips. Nick 
  returned the bite, savoring the earthy flavor of his ancient partner. The cool 
  blood soothed his spirit as much as his stomach. He trembled uncontrollably as 
  his own passion crested, leaving him weak yet contented. 
  Zuhayr pulled out of his neck, licking the small wounds to heal them. He 
  scowled when the blood did not immediately cease to flow, and allowed Nick to 
  continue to drink from him. The sweet elixir of the younger vampire was almost 
  intoxicating. He brushed a tender kiss on the golden hair. It was time to 
  leave this one, but he hoped the time would pass swiftly until Nicholas came 
  to him again. 
  Nick sleepily withdrew from the ancient's wrist, caressing the hand that held 
  him. Wordlessly, Zuhayr carried him back to his bed. When he awoke later that 
  night, the ancient was gone. 
   
    
  Chapter two: 
  Tracy bit her fingernails nervously, checking her watch again. "How much 
  longer?" she snapped irritably. 
  "They'll get here when they get here," Urs sighed. "If not tonight, then 
  tomorrow for sure." 
  Tracy winced. She'd torn the nail too close again, just like last night. It 
  would repair itself in a few hours, but the pain was no less annoying. She 
  picked up one of the smaller logs from the fire and played with it, spraying 
  sparks into the chill night air. They had been camping out near the harbor for 
  two days now yet still no sign of their boys. Now a low fog settled over the 
  warmer water, obscuring even a vampire's ability to see. 
  "So tell me about Maine," Urs said, trying to distract Tracy. 
  She shrugged. "It was okay." 
  "Tell me more!" Urs pushed her shoulder teasingly. "You'll never win any 
  communications awards with answers like that!" 
  It was Tracy's turn to sigh. "All right," she conceded. "It was pretty nice, 
  most of the time. Learning Spanish was fun! I even went to a harvest dance! I 
  just wore my jeans, although some of the Mexican girls wore full cotton 
  skirts, which were so pretty when they moved. LaCroix even danced. I mean, I 
  knew he could waltz and tango, but I didn't know he could do anything so 
  common as a folk dance." 
  The two girls chuckled. "I have a hard time picturing that myself," Urs 
  whispered conspiratorially. 
  "It was also kind of boring at times. I mean, no one to talk to except 
  LaCroix. And he's great but, I mean, he's a guy. And guys are so, so, I don't 
  know!" 
  "I know just what you mean!" 
  They laughed again. 
  Then Tracy dropped the log into the coals. "They're coming! I feel them!" 
  Urs stood up and turned towards the lake. She hadn't felt a thing. Envy 
  threatened to spoil the moment, but she clamped down on it quickly. "What can 
  you sense?" she asked. 
  "Nick mostly. He seems happy. Come! Follow me!" Tracy jumped into the air, 
  throwing caution away. Urs glanced around nervously. The fog was thick enough 
  to keep any other campers from observing them. She leaped after Tracy and 
  followed her through the fog to where their men were mooring the boat for the 
  day. 
  Tracy alighted on the deck, throwing her arms around Vachon, then Nick, and 
  then Vachon again. "You're back! Finally! How was Montreal? Did you like the 
  school? You don't look any smarter. Did you know Natalie went to Hawaii for 
  two weeks? I've missed you guys!" 
  Nick laughed. He silenced Tracy's endless prattle by laying a kiss on her 
  lips. When he released her, Vachon took his place. "We kind of missed you too, 
  Baby," Nick said. 
  Urs came forward hesitantly. Nick grabbed her, enveloping her in a bear hug. 
  "It's good to see you again," Nick said, using the expression even if it 
  wasn't strictly accurate. 
  Urs kissed him. "You, too." 
  Perry broke up the sentimental nonsense with a firm bark. It was time to get 
  off this wood and fiberglass chamber of torture and go home! 
  Nick knelt in front of the carouche and rubbed his hands through the long, 
  silky coat. "I'm not ready to go yet, Perry. But I will be fine with my 
  friends if you would like to wait for me at the Raven." 
  Perry growled and snapped his teeth. 
  "I promise. We're be there before dawn." The carouche licked his face, wagging 
  his tail agreeably, before lifting into the sky. 
  "How do you understand him?" Tracy asked, crinkling her nose in distaste. "You 
  don't have to, you know, um, bite him, do you?" 
  Nick laughed. "Too much hair." He pulled Urs behind him then as he went down 
  below. 
  Tracy watched them leave and her fangs throbbed. She wasn't sure whom she 
  missed more, Nick or Vachon. It was a sure thing that the next time they went 
  somewhere, she was going to go with them! Vachon pulled her away, onto the 
  upper deck where he had spread a comforter. Then, beneath the starry sky, he 
  made love to her. Through the bond she shared with Nick, she sensed his 
  arousal as well, increasing her own desire, and their climax was reached 
  together, exploding in waves of pleasure. 
  ***** 
  Natalie swirled the straw in her Brandy Old-Fashioned. Nick should be coming 
  home tonight. The summer was nearly over. He had been blind for seven months 
  now. How quickly the year had flown! And she was no better off than she was 
  last year at this time. 
  She was still surrounded by vampires, still working the graveyard shift, and 
  still no prospects of a normal, mortal marriage and family. Some things had 
  improved, however. Last year, she had felt Nick drifting away from her. Now, 
  their friendship was stronger than ever. And then, there was LaCroix. 
  Her cruise was supposed to give her time away from the undead to think about 
  her life. She had to see if being only mortal in a mortal world would be 
  enough for her. If she asked him to do it, LaCroix could erase her memories of 
  them, and she could live relatively free from danger. Only, a rampaging 
  vampire had nearly killed her, and Tristan, an Enforcer no less, had 
  accompanied her on the Bahamian cruise, and again to Hawaii. 
  Natalie had just about decided that she did not want to grow old and die. 
  There was so much of life she wanted to experience; so much she wanted to 
  know. And if she lived long enough, perhaps she could realize her own 
  potential? She might return to college and pursue that career in research? 
  Discover the cure for AIDS, cancer, and chicken pox? Maybe even read every 
  book in the Metro Reference Library! 
  But the one thing she wasn't sure about was a baby. Her hand strayed to her 
  flat stomach and wondered. 
  "Girl, you have got to get a life," Grace chided, nudging Nat out of her 
  introspection. 
  Nat smiled at her co-worker. "I have a life. Maybe I've had too much time off 
  this year." 
  Grace smiled. "You were a million miles away. Why, Nat? Did you meet someone 
  nice in Hawaii? Are you going to break up with Mr. Nightcreeper?" 
  "Nightcrawler," Nat corrected her. "And his name is Lucien LaCroix. No. I am 
  not planning to break up with him." 
  "Then what? Get married? That's it, isn't it? Are you pregnant?" 
  Nat broke into a short burst of laughter. "Nothing could be further >from the 
  truth, Grace. He can't have any more children." 
  "Had the strings cut, huh? Well, there's other ways, darling. You know, In 
  Vitro Visa, baby-buying, test-tube fertilizer. If you and him really want a 
  baby, just go for it. I must admit though, after all those years trying to 
  pair you up with Nick, I have a hard time seeing you as his step-mother." 
  "I don't," Nat admitted. "Actually, I think he's the sweetest son a body could 
  ask for. For a stubborn, old-fashioned brick, that is." 
  The friends both laughed. 
  "Nat, what's going on with his eyesight? Do you still think it will return?" 
  Nat was silent. That had been her belief all along, but now she wasn't sure. 
  She doubted Nick would ever get better. The ulcer had not changed at all since 
  about two weeks after his drowning, when there had been some small 
  improvement. Nick had about given up, as well. 
  "We just take it one day at a time, Grace." 
  "Well, you think about getting yourself a baby, honey. And I'd best be getting 
  home." Grace rubbed at an ache in her lower back before slinging her purse 
  over her shoulder. 
  Nat smiled. "Good night," she said. 
  A baby... it was something to think about. She had wanted marriage, home, and 
  family, but... if she chose unlife with LaCroix, perhaps she could at least 
  have a child first? She could use a donor, and not have to deal with a 
  relationship. She smiled as she considered the possibility. 
  ***** 
  The nightclub was thinning; the crowd had changed from the mostly mortal one 
  of early evening to mostly vampire. Strange, but she still felt that she was 
  among friends. When LaCroix had been gone, and Janette was back on the throne, 
  Nat had felt displaced. Now, with her master lover in his sound booth at the 
  back of the bar, she was treated respectfully. 
  Suddenly a quiet descended on the nightclub moments before the door blew open 
  and Nick entered, with Tracy, Vachon and Urs. A cheer of welcome went up. Nat 
  stared at him. He held the railing as he came down the stairs, but otherwise 
  it was hard to tell he was blind. He walked with the quiet power of a prince, 
  of one born to rule. His head turned to her direction and he grinned, calling 
  a greeting to her. 
  For a moment, she dared to hope that he could see her, but the infant fantasy 
  died quickly. His deep blue eyes were a little unfocused, not seeing her at 
  all. Nat got up and went to him, giving him a quick hug. "Welcome back, Nick. 
  How was school?" 
  Nick kissed the top of her head and hugged her a little too tightly. "It was 
  fine. But it is good to be back." He buried his nose in her long hair and 
  inhaled. "I don't smell the coconuts. Did you lose your tan already?" 
  Nat punched him playfully. "No, Nick, I have a gorgeous summer tan, better 
  than I've ever had before, thank you. And Hawaii was wonderful. I'm hoping to 
  convince Lucien to move there next. Don't you think that would be nice?" 
  Nick laughed. "Actually, I can see him in the Aleutian Islands a lot easier. 
  Especially those six months out of the year when the night never ends." 
  "Ick," Nat said, laughing, and shuddered at the imagined cold. 
  All of the vampires in the nightclub welcomed Nick back. Some clapped his 
  back, others gave only a verbal greeting, but it seemed that everyone had to 
  make some contact with him. 
  Nick was polite, but he seemed to search the crowd for the one who was not 
  there. 
  Nat scowled disapprovingly. "He is still in his sound booth," she told Nick. 
  If he was upset, it didn't show. Nick gave her a ready smile. Before long, she 
  saw him make his way through the crowd and enter LaCroix's domain. Nat went 
  back to her drink, now watered down from the melted ice and waited. Tracy, 
  Vachon, and Urs slid into the booth with her. 
  It wasn't long before she heard a terrible noise, as something - or someone - 
  was thrown against the door of the sound booth. Nat lurched to her feet, ready 
  to defend Nick and to tear LaCroix to shreds! Vachon's hand clamped on her 
  wrist. He tugged her gently, insisting she sit down again. 
  "It is their way," he said sadly. "You cannot interfere." 
  "Yes, I can, dammit, and I will!" she snapped. 
  Tracy looked at her with golden eyes and fang tips showing. "The fight is over 
  already, Nat. You do not want to go in there now." 
  Nat slumped into the booth. She could deal with so many things - vampire 
  corpses who were not dead, children who appeared older than their parents, the 
  barbaric rules and violence under which the creatures of the night must 
  live... but sharing her lover with his son was just too much. "I'm going to 
  bed," she snapped. 
  Vachon hooked his arms around Urs and Tracy. "Should we follow her?" He 
  breathed on their necks, scraping his fangs along their throats seductively. 
  "No way," Tracy said. "Let's go to my bed instead." 
  ***** 
  Nick entered the sound booth. He was a little hurt that LaCroix had felt more 
  of a duty to his mortal listeners than to his immortal child, but he tried to 
  ignore the feeling. Closing the door, he took a few steps into the room and 
  waited. 
  LaCroix was just ending his broadcast for the day. Nick listened to the 
  silken, seductive voice as he bid farewell, and heard the switches flipped and 
  the power cease until the room was all in silence. He waited, but LaCroix did 
  not move, did not say a word. 
  He had missed his master! It was humiliating to admit, but he longed to return 
  to LaCroix's embrace, to feel his master dominate him, to drink from him 
  again! But the ancient sat there, a cold, quiet presence, denying him welcome. 
  Nick covered his own hurt with spitefulness. 
  "I'm sure all the vermin of Toronto can sleep better now that their guru has 
  returned. How ever did they manage while you were away with Tracy?" 
  LaCroix lunged from his chair. He grabbed Nick's shirt and threw him into the 
  door. The hinges groaned but held fast. He stormed to Nick and grabbed his 
  shirt again, drawing his fist back to strike the smugness from his face. 
  Nicholas flinched, a look of fear mixed with expectation. Even blind, he could 
  see the chastisement coming. LaCroix held back only with great effort. "You 
  have one minute to explain your utter lack of respect, Nicholas, before I 
  teach you better manners," he hissed. 
  Nick opened his senses to touch the bond with his master. What he felt was 
  overpowering. LaCroix had missed him! He had missed him so much that it hurt, 
  and the hurt terrified him. He never wanted to need someone that much. LaCroix 
  could not need anyone. To need was to be weak. 
  "Master," Nick whispered. He felt some of the tension leave LaCroix with that 
  single word. "Why didn't you come to greet me? Are you not glad to have me 
  back?" 
  "I would have been but one among many," LaCroix replied cryptically. 
  "I need you, LaCroix. I have always needed you. Please don't shut me out." 
  LaCroix dropped his fist and pulled Nick into his embrace. He said nothing, 
  but his arms trembled from emotion. Nick nuzzled his neck, reaching up to nip 
  the sensitive area behind his ear. LaCroix tore Nick's shirt from him, popping 
  buttons and rending the fabric, to bear the throat of his golden child. He 
  lowered Nick to the floor then and took him. What he could not say with words, 
  he shared through the blood kiss. 
  Nick savored his master's essence as it slid smoothly down his throat. He 
  treasured the feel of LaCroix's weight on him, making him feel cherished and 
  protected. He burrowed into LaCroix's shoulder, loath to end the moment. How 
  strange, he thought to himself. In the past twenty-four hours he had lain with 
  Vachon, Zuhayr, Urs, Tracy, and now LaCroix. He had changed a lot in a year. 
  LaCroix lifted up on his elbows, admiring the beloved face of his precious 
  child. He pulled his fingers through strands of Nicholas's hair. "Shall we 
  find a more comfortable bed, my son?" he whispered. 
  "Mm. I'm fine." 
  Reluctantly, LaCroix got to his feet, pulling Nicholas up with him. He licked 
  again at the twin trail that still flowed from his child's throat. 
  "Something happened to my shirt," Nick said lightly. 
  "So I see." LaCroix lifted the shreds of fabric and put them into the trash. 
  Then he took a coat from the closet and helped Nicholas to slip it on. Arm in 
  arm, they left the private sound booth. 
  The club was empty. The patrons had all left, the chairs were piled on top of 
  tables and even Patrick had gone to bed for the day. LaCroix saw his son 
  safely to his room before he was finally able to rest. It had been a long 
  summer. He was glad it was over. 
    
    
  Chapter three: 
  Tracy threw her arms around Nat, startling the mortal enough to spill her 
  coffee. "Hello!" she called happily. 
  "Uh, hello. What's this for," Nat snapped, wiping up the spill with a paper 
  napkin. 
  Tracy released her and went to pull her breakfast from the refrigerator. "I'm 
  just glad to see you is all." After the microwave chimed to announce the blood 
  was warm, Tracy joined Nat at the small kitchen table. 
  "We were so worried about you," Tracy began. 
  "I'm sorry about that, but there was no way I could get in touch." 
  "I know. That's not it. But, while we thought you were missing, maybe even 
  dead, I felt sorry that I hadn't taken the time to know you better. I mean, I 
  know how hard it must be for you now. And I thought maybe you could use a 
  friend." 
  Nat smiled. Tracy was such a welcome change from the laconic vampire men in 
  her life. "Thanks, Tracy," she said sincerely. "One can always use good 
  friends." 
  "So, tell me about this guy Tristan! What's he like?" 
  Natalie blushed. It was awkward to talk about it. She hadn't been intimate 
  with him, but it wasn't because she hadn't been interested. Tristan hadn't 
  wanted to cross LaCroix. She was still governed by her mortal heritage, that 
  included faithfulness to one partner at a time, yet LaCroix recognized no such 
  constraints himself. He would flit from neck to neck, with no regard for her 
  feelings whatsoever. A part of her had wanted to sleep with another vampire, 
  just out of spite. 
  "Tristan is an Enforcer," Nat said, as if that negated any possible feelings. 
  "So! Go on! You went on two cruises with him! You have to know more about him 
  than his favorite brand of toothpaste, and I want to know it all!" 
  Natalie laughed. "Okay. He's good looking-" 
  "I could see that much," Tracy interrupted. 
  "And I think he's from Spain originally, although he has lived in England for 
  a long time. He likes to write. He's had a dozen books published, actually, 
  although under a variety of pseudonyms. He says he gets to travel a lot in his 
  line of work, and he always learns something new wherever he goes. He prefers 
  the bottom bunk, he likes his blood uncut, and he doesn't snore, not even a 
  little." 
  "Why did he join the Enforcers?" Tracy asked. 
  Nat just shrugged. "I don't know. We didn't talk about it." 
  "To survive, no doubt," LaCroix answered for her, as he joined them at the 
  table. 
  Natalie smiled at him. "What makes you say that?" 
  The ancient slipped an arm over her shoulder amicably. "It is the most common 
  reason. Becoming an Enforcer gives one strength, power, and membership. It is 
  not uncommon for orphaned fledglings to gravitate towards them." 
  "Why didn't you ever become one?" Tracy asked out of curiosity. 
  LaCroix sniffed disdainfully. "I never needed to." 
  "Well, I'm glad that you and he were able to kiss and make up," Nat said, 
  rising from the table to put her dishes in the sink. 
  "We did no such thing," LaCroix insisted. 
  Nat just laughed. 
  Vachon and Urs joined them, then, and Janette, Amaru, and Perry. Only Nick 
  remained asleep. Nat watched the vampires with a strange sense of longing. She 
  wanted to belong, but would she regret it later if she didn't have a child 
  first? 
  She and Tracy had two nights off, a well-timed weekend for Nick's return. 
  Later she hoped he would tell them about his adventures. The doctor in her 
  wondered why he was still sleeping. 
  "Nicholas is the same," LaCroix whispered in her ear reassuringly. "No better 
  and no worse for his journey." 
  She gave him a wan smile. "I wish there was something we could do." 
  "As do I, my dear. As do I." 
  It was nearly midnight before Nick awoke and then only because Perry insisted. 
  Nick groaned, resisting the carouche for a moment. "It's still early!" 
  *It is not, Nicholas. The night is half over. Your friends are worried for 
  you.* 
  "Okay. I'll get up." Nick remained under the covers. Perry nipped the 
  comforter and dragged it from the bed, tugging insistently when Nick tried to 
  grab it back. Then he jumped onto the vampire and began to lick his face. Nick 
  rolled over, wrestling him until they fell to the floor. 
  "I'm up! I'm up!" his said, laughing hard. 
  *You are not. You are on the floor,* Perry pointed out. He took Nick's hand in 
  his mouth and pulled gently, helping him to his feet. 
  Nick staggered a moment, as sleepy muscles revived. He was all turned around 
  and disoriented, but unconcerned. He groped about the furniture until he got 
  his bearings back. Perry watched him disappear into the bathroom, before going 
  to the kitchen to wait for breakfast. 
  Before long Nick joined them, as they congregated in the living room. Room was 
  made for him on the couch, his sister at his feet, his master in his leather 
  chair nearby. Perry flopped onto the floor at his feet. He knew the story, but 
  he wondered how much Nick would divulge. 
  "So tell us everything," Tracy coaxed. 
  He shrugged, a teasing grin on his face. "I went to school, I passed, and I 
  came home." 
  Tracy slugged his shoulder. "Now, tell the rest! What happened with Joe? And 
  where was this school? How was the boat? I want details, bro." 
  Nick accepted the glass Urs placed in his hand and took a small sip. It felt 
  good to be back, and yet he wondered how much to tell. He wasn't ready for a 
  scene with LaCroix, and he knew his master was not going to take the story of 
  his battle lightly. 
  He told them about Aunt Mary first and the children she took care of. Then he 
  told about Colette, but the details were pried loose only with much prodding 
  from Tracy. 
  "So, this wasn't a real school?" Tracy interrupted. 
  "No." Nick sighed, feeling his master's anger already begin. "I was 
  manipulated into attending there, by the council. They wanted to see me alone, 
  away from the protection of my family." 
  "I want a name," LaCroix hissed. 
  Nick turned sightless eyes to him, keeping his expression carefully neutral. 
  "Later, sire. It is over, and there is no need for retribution." 
  "I will be the judge of that!" 
  "No. I am." 
  A silence fell for a brief moment, the room was rife with tension. Perry sat 
  up, comforting his charge through their bond. 
  "The council? Is that like Enforcers?" Tracy asked. 
  "No," Nick said. "The Enforcers carry out the code. They are like the police 
  of our kind. The Council is more like the governing body, that defines the 
  code and sets the consequences for breaking it. 
  "It all worked out in the end, I guess," Nick said, getting back to the 
  subject. "I had private instruction, and learned what I set out to do. And the 
  council member was there when Joe arrived with his minions." 
  LaCroix shut his eyes, shuddering involuntarily at the image of his precious 
  son facing a band of cut-throats alone. "Forgive me, my son," he whispered. 
  "It's over," Nick repeated. "Zuhayr prohibited any other from aiding Joe and I 
  was able to defend myself. Joe has returned to Greece to resign from 
  Enforcement." 
  "Zuhayr?" Tracy picked up on the strange name. 
  "Zuhayr is the oldest member on the council," LaCroix said wearily. "He may 
  very well be the oldest survivor of our race." 
  "Cool," she said. 
  Nick swallowed. Zuhayr was a king, and he had lain with him? They had shared 
  blood? The ancient had even offered him a job, basically. When the time came. 
  When would that be? Maybe now was not the time to tell that to LaCroix. His 
  master was feeling threatened enough as it was. 
  "I hope you gave Joe what-for," Tracy said firmly. "After the hell he put Nat 
  through." 
  "He hurt you?" Nick blurted. Suddenly, he no longer regretted the beating he'd 
  given the younger vampire. 
  Nat smiled at her best friend and perhaps, future step-son. "Like you say, 
  Nick. It is over." 
  Nick told them a little more. He didn't have Tracy's gift for storytelling, 
  but he felt them hang on every word. He reached out tentatively for his 
  master, wondering if the ancient was still wanting to kill someone. 
  LaCroix's emotions surprised him. The Roman General seemed sad and pensive, 
  mourning for something lost. Nick pressed a little harder, using abilities he 
  hadn't possessed before his blindness forced him to grow. LaCroix grieved for 
  him! 
  The ancient seemed proud of Nick, of his newfound strength and confidence, and 
  yet, he suffered. Nick wondered about it, until he knew with a certainty. 
  LaCroix feared the changes in their relationship. Nick did, too. He felt like 
  a teenager on the brink of self-discovery. He wanted to step out on his own 
  and yet, he did not want to lose the comfort and security to which he had 
  grown accustomed. 
  Words could not comfort his master without betraying his presence in the 
  ancient's mind. Nick smiled secretively. He would not give away his new 
  abilities. Gently, he pulled away from the intimate contact. 
  "Dad, I mean, LaCroix," Tracy said. "Are you going to show him his present 
  now?" 
  LaCroix grunted. Nick grinned, grateful to his little sister. "Gifts? Great!" 
  "Come along then, Nicholas," LaCroix said. "It is on the desk, near the 
  window." He took Nick's hand and guided him. "I didn't bother to wrap it." 
  Nick felt the back of the desk chair, then the desk. He found the computer 
  sitting on it, as it had been before, but next to it was a new Braillexel 
  2D-80 with easy access bar. With its 80 refreshable Braille cells and 20 cell 
  vertical display, it made the computer accessible to the blind and visually 
  impaired. It was the largest model, the fastest, and also the most expensive. 
  "Thank you, father," Nick said sincerely. 
  "One identical to it has been donated to the precinct for your use," LaCroix 
  said flatly. 
  Nick demonstrated to them how it worked, but he grew restless. He had to get 
  out of the apartment, and from being the smothering center of attention. 
  "LaCroix," he said. "Will you take me flying?" 
  The vampire master startled, pleased at the simple request. "Anything, 
  Nicholas." 
  Tracy was ready to invite herself along, but Perry knew his charge wished to 
  be alone with the ancient. He glared at Vachon, trying to get the young one's 
  attention. Without the bond of shared blood, it was difficult. He sent an 
  image of Tracy, skyclad bare and frolicking in the hot tub. He grinned as he 
  caught the scent of arousal from the young Spaniard. That task had been easy! 
  "I have a better idea, querrida," Vachon whispered, pulling Tracy in to his 
  embrace. 
  Perry watched Nick and LaCroix escape through the skylight. He would follow 
  them, only he would venture out on his own and hunt. It was so good to be on 
  dry land again! He felt truly alive! 
  Nick relaxed, trusting in his master's care as the night wind whipped at his 
  face. Any vampire could take him flying, but only with LaCroix could he fully 
  enjoy it. He had adjusted to being blind, to reading through his fingers, to 
  leaning on a dog for help, to being dependent. But, he would always miss the 
  freedom flight offered. 
  LaCroix opened himself to the bond he shared with Nicholas, attuning himself 
  to the younger one's needs. Nicholas would never tell him if he were growing 
  weary. He brought them to the edge of the lake and landed, thinking a quiet, 
  peaceful stroll would loosen his child's tongue, for he sensed that Nicholas 
  had something to say, but was reluctant to speak in front of the others. 
  Nick took a few steps before he let his knees buckle. He swerved and pitched 
  forward, caught at the last minute by his master's quick reflexes. "Help me," 
  he whispered. 
  LaCroix gazed at him in concern. Nick didn't look any more pale than usual. He 
  laid him gently on the sand. He saw the familiar gag reflex and in a gesture 
  that was now habit, he massaged his child's stomach soothingly. 
  Nick let his fangs erupt. He reached for his master, tugging the familiar face 
  closer. When LaCroix turned his neck to feed him, Nick felt a moment of guilt 
  for manipulating him so, but as the ancient blood poured into him, filling 
  him, calming him, he wondered if it had been merely an act after all. 
  He tasted LaCroix's emotions, more clearly than ever in the past. His master 
  was concerned for his health, angry at the fates that made him weak, pleased 
  with his progress over the summer, jealous of his growing popularity in the 
  community, but most of all, he was relieved. Nick still needed and wanted him, 
  and that was all he wanted in his unlife. 
  Nick shielded his deception, burying it deep, and concentrated instead on how 
  much the ancient's blood calmed his pain and strengthened him. Then he craned 
  his neck to offer himself. 
  LaCroix completed the circle. The taste of honey and wine filled his mouth, 
  tempting his palette. His passion exploded, his life was once again complete. 
  He shifted slightly, hoping his weight was not uncomfortable on his child's 
  sore stomach, but the arms that held him close would not release him. He 
  kissed his forehead, brushing aside a strand of hair. 
  "Talk to me, Nicholas. What is troubling you?" 
  Nick hesitated. He was in a very vulnerable position, should he arouse 
  LaCroix's anger. A look of fear must have escaped, for LaCroix caressed his 
  face and comforted him. 
  "Speak, my child. I will not harm you." 
  "Zuhayr requests that you present your new infants at Council, on the next 
  feast of Lilith," Nick said softly. 
  "Infants?" 
  Nick stammered. "He was accusing you of not doing your duty. He said our race 
  is dying and that all ancients should create more progeny, and tend to their 
  upbringing. So I told him about Tracy and Constantine." 
  LaCroix chuckled. "So, now you brag about my mistake and claim Constantine for 
  the little brother you've always wanted?" 
  "No," Nick said crossly. He struggled to get up, but LaCroix held him firm. 
  "I took the blame," Nick said, "for your lapse in protocol. I know you had a 
  lot on your mind last spring." 
  "I shall take her next year," LaCroix said. "And Don Constantine, as well. Do 
  not worry about this further." 
  "I want to go with you." 
  LaCroix licked Nick's throat again, capturing more of the sweet essence that 
  continued to flow. He felt his son's renewed arousal but he knew the night was 
  fading. "Why would you wish to go? Your presence is not required." 
  "I hated it," Nick said, remembering his own presentation as though it had 
  happened last week, and not nearly 800 years ago. "She won't be safe there. I 
  can help protect her." 
  "And put yourself at risk again, Nicholas?" LaCroix was incredulous. 
  "No!" Nick forced his master off of him and lunged to his feet. He felt his 
  strength return, and allowed his eyes to glow, allowed his power to roll off 
  in waves. "I am not a helpless infant any longer, LaCroix. I will be in no 
  great danger." 
  "We will go together," LaCroix said calmly, admiring the beauty of his 
  favorite child. He loved the fully fanged expression, such an erotic contrast 
  on the golden, angelic face. "Not because I require your assistance, but 
  because we are family." 
  Nick nodded, accepting the compromise. "I'm glad the feast is still six months 
  away," he said, lightening the moment. 
  "As am I, my son." 
  ***** 
  The next few days passed quickly. Nick grew lazy, as he permitted his friends 
  and family to hover over him. He could endure it, since he knew he would soon 
  be leaving again. Quietly, he went online, gathering information he would need 
  for his journey. Telling LaCroix was going to be the hardest of all. He wasn't 
  going to ask his permission. He fully intended to go, regardless of his 
  master's wishes. 
  The idea to sail to Chicago had come upon him over the summer. Although he'd 
  worked precious little since last winter, he hadn't really had a vacation, 
  either. Vachon was so easy to be with. Nick felt able to completely relax in 
  his company. 
  This time, though, he wanted to invite the girls along. There was going to be 
  an Amish fair at the stock pavilion, he learned. Hard wood furniture and 
  handsewn quilts were on exhibit. Tracy and Urs would enjoy that. Although 
  Tracy hadn't yet made another quilt after the signature crazy quilt she'd 
  given to LaCroix, Urs had made two. And maybe while Vachon took them to the 
  exhibit, Nick would look up some old friends. 
  LaCroix surprised him then, when he gave his assent. "I remember you were 
  always fond of Chicago," LaCroix had said. "Give my regards to your friend 
  Lucius." 
  "I will," Nick stammered, still shocked. He was even more surprised when Reese 
  gave Tracy the time off to go with him. She'd had so much time off since her 
  conversion, that she might not even have to pay income tax this year, he 
  thought wryly. Still, it wasn't like she really needed the money. And after 
  this trip, he was returning to work. 
  Perry glared at him reproachfully. Nick felt his displeasure as surely as if 
  he could see the baleful eyes. "I would miss you terribly," Nick said. "But 
  you do not need to go with me." 
  The carouche growled. Of course he did! Nick was his responsibility, and he 
  didn't take that lightly. 
  "Well, I could send you by plane, and meet you there." *No, * Perry insisted. 
  * I must join you. I will endure the journey.* 
  Natalie watched as Nick talked to Perry. She wondered at the way he 
  anthropomorphized his dog, but at least, it was something that many mortals 
  also did. "If he doesn't like sailing, perhaps we could give him something to 
  help him sleep? Like a little curare-laced blood?" 
  "What do you think, Perry?" 
  The carouche considered it. It would make him drowsy and keep him from helping 
  Nick if trouble arose. However, this trip would be many times longer than the 
  short jaunt to Montreal. He couldn't imagine what use he'd be if he were sick 
  the entire trip. He nodded his assent, wagging his tail and yipping softly. 
  "He'll try that," Nick said. He told her how much Perry weighed, and Nat went 
  to her lab to work on the correct proportions. Curare was one of the few drugs 
  that worked on vampires, she had learned, and then only in human-lethal doses. 
  It worked a little like an anesthetic, leaving the vampire sleepy for hours. 
  Perry would still suffer motion sickness, but at least he could sleep during 
  much of the journey. 
  ***** 
  LaCroix watched with concern as his son's boat sailed away. He had worried for 
  him the entire time he was in Montreal, and he had sent him with a case of his 
  own blood, extracted at no small discomfort to himself. This time, Nick went 
  without it. He had three young vampires to feed from, and cases of uncut, 
  mortal blood, but LaCroix hoped it would be enough. He knew that his child 
  could defend himself well. The blindness was no longer a disability. He was 
  comforted to know that Nicholas still needed him. Not for his blood, or his 
  might, or his influence, but because he was his master. That was all. And that 
  would never change. LaCroix smiled, even as he blinked away an errant tear. 
  Natalie hugged him as she waved at the small figures on the sailboat. "I'll 
  miss them," she admitted. "But I'm also glad to have some time with you to 
  myself." 
  LaCroix kissed the top of her head. He had been neglecting her lately. The 
  topic of her conversion had been postponed long enough. It was time to discuss 
  it and end whatever misconceptions she still harbored. "Are you ready to join 
  me tonight," he whispered seductively. 
  "No." Nat pulled away from him. His pull was too strong to resist, especially 
  when he was aroused. "I think I want to have a baby first. If it takes a few 
  months to conceive, and then nine to carry it, then I would let you bring me 
  across in about a year." 
  "A baby," LaCroix stammered. "Where did that come from? We do not have 
  babies." His tone was loud and a little angry. 
  Nat was not intimidated. She had expected the anger. It seemed the emotion 
  with which LaCroix was most comfortable. 
  "I know that," Natalie said. "But I am thirty-five years old. The urge to have 
  a child is almost instinct. I have been thinking that it is now or never, 
  whether or not I become a vampire. I used to think that marriage and a home in 
  the suburbs was my destiny, but now I'm not so sure. I could get used to 
  living with you. To being with you, forever. Not to grow old, not to know 
  death and disease. That is very desirable." 
  "So who would father this child," LaCroix sneered, making the very word 
  something distasteful. 
  Nat laughed nervously. Could he be jealous after all? "I haven't anyone in 
  mind yet," she said, ignoring his low warning growl. "With sperm donors, I 
  wouldn't even have to meet him. Perhaps you could even donate sperm, although 
  I realize that this is my wish, and not something you have ever considered. 
  And I'm not even sure I want to do this. But, it is what I at least want to 
  consider." 
  LaCroix turned away from her, glaring out over the lake. Nick's small boat was 
  still just visible, but it was moving swiftly and soon would be out of sight. 
  No, he did not want to father any more children. He had not really wanted 
  Tracy, although he was glad she was a part of his family. Nick, Janette, 
  Tracy, and one day, possibly, Natalie... that was enough for him. He chuckled 
  then, as he remembered that he had promised to bring Constantine along with 
  them when they traveled to Greece. He had not yet told any of this to Natalie. 

  "What's so funny?" she asked. 
  "When will you do this?" 
  Natalie heaved a sigh. "I don't know. I don't even know that I will. But I 
  wanted you to understand my feelings." 
  "I don't know that I can," LaCroix said softly. "I do remember when I brought 
  Nicholas across. I wanted him for my child more than anything else I have ever 
  wanted in my entire life, both mortal and since. 
  "I hadn't wanted Divia. I was not pleased when her mother informed me she was 
  expecting and I refused to acknowledge that I was the father. After the child 
  came, I was surprised at the feelings she could arouse. She was so weak and 
  helpless, so totally dependent on me. I would have laid down my life for her 
  then. 
  "Children make us weak. Why would anyone want them?" He straightened, clamping 
  his mouth shut before he could rant any more foolishness. 
  Natalie laid a loving hand on his shoulder, pressing her face against his 
  back. "Children are our greatest weakness, it is true. But they also bring 
  meaning to an otherwise colorless existence." 
  LaCroix nodded. How true that was. Nicholas was everything to him. Of course, 
  Natalie would never think of him as her child. He would have to allow her this 
  foolish wish. If only mortal infants were not quite so... annoying. 
  "I could really use an ice cream," Nat said, with a wicked smile. "Shall we 
  go?" 
  **** 
  Perry lapped up the bowl of curare and cow's blood, licking the last drops 
  from the floor and his chin. The poison had an offish taste, but not entirely 
  unpleasant. The rolling deck seemed less noxious. His eyes felt heavy. He 
  grinned up at Nick lazily. Perhaps this voyage would be tolerable after all. 
  "You'd better get into bed while you can still move," Nick advised. He pulled 
  down one of the stow-away bunks and patted the cushions. Perry glanced at the 
  master bed longingly. It was a little small for three. Reluctantly he jumped 
  onto the bunk. * Safe journey,* he cautioned his charge. 
  "Always," Nick said. He patted the soft fur around Perry's ears. "Sleep well, 
  boy." 
  Tracy shook her head. Nick was so weird sometimes, talking to a dog like he 
  could understand. Lots of people talked to their pets, but only a few basket 
  cases actually believed the conversation was reciprocated. 
  Nick laughed aloud. "I am not a basket case," he denied. 
  "Nick! Don't do that! Get out of my head," she snapped. "I hate it when you do 
  that." 
  "Sorry," Nick said casually. "So how's sailing?" 
  "Fine. It's the only way to travel. When you can't fly, that is." Tracy 
  stretched her arms and yawned. She had learned a lot all ready. Sailing was 
  more than leaning back and looking at the telltales. She'd learned basic 
  definitions and fundamental sailing theory and critical terminology. She 
  inspected the bilge and removed the engine dipstick. She had watched as Vachon 
  hoisted the main and Nick unrolled the jib, and she was even beginning to 
  "feel" the boat as they sailed to windward against a bright southwesterly. 
  When the boat suddenly began to heel excessively, she helped to reef in rising 
  wind. They tacked and tacked again. Tracy felt a growing confidence. By the 
  time they reached Chicago, she'd be an experienced sailor! 
  Urs wasn't as fond of sailing. She watched passively, enjoying the sights as 
  Nick maneuvered about the boat unhindered by his disability. He looked so 
  confident and at ease, a god of the air and sea, but she had absolutely no 
  desire to learn how to help. 
  As dawn approached the horizon, they lowered the sails and dropped anchor for 
  the day. Now, the best part of the journey would begin, Urs thought, with a 
  shy, seductive smile. 
    
    
  Chapter four: 
  Nick brushed Perry's fur thoroughly, feeling the silky coat with his fingers. 
  After being confined on the small boat with Urs's worrying over him 
  constantly, he was looking forward to heading out on his own. He wondered 
  where to look for Lucius Snow. To call the old man eccentric was a gross 
  understatement. 
  "Oh Nick, I am so looking forward to this exhibit! How sweet of you to find 
  out about it for us!" Tracy hugged him impulsively, nearly knocking him over. 
  "Tracy, just because I don't have to breathe is no reason to strangle me," he 
  croaked. 
  "Well, we're ready when you are," she said. 
  "You will go without me." 
  Urs stopped abruptly. "We will not. I thought the purpose of this trip was to 
  spend some time together." 
  Nick stood slowly and set the dog comb back in the drawer. "We are together. 
  All day. What use is a quilt exhibit to a blind man?" 
  Urs fell silent, feeling chastised, but Tracy was just getting warmed up. 
  "Then we don't have to go, Nick. We can do something you'd find more 
  interesting." 
  "No. Go to the quilt exhibit. I know you want to see it. But I don't. I want 
  to revisit some of my favorite places, look up a few old friends. I'll be fine 
  alone." 
  "I can come with you, Nick," Vachon volunteered. 
  "No, Vachon. Tracy and Urs are too young to be alone in this city, while I am 
  perfectly capable. You will go with them. I will meet you all back here well 
  before sunrise." 
  Silence fell. The three younger vampires exchanged worried glances Nick was 
  unable to see, but he could sense their unease. He was getting angry. He 
  allowed his beast to surface, his eyes glowed and fangs erupted. 
  "I am eight hundred years old! I can take care of myself! Now go!" 
  Urs flinched. Tracy was unimpressed. She stood up on her toes to peck Nick's 
  cheek affectionately. "Of course you can, bro. Besides, Perry will be with 
  you. Have a good time!" 
  Nick blinked, restoring his eyes to their deep blue. He chuckled, slapping 
  Tracy's rump. "Good night, brat." 
  Vachon clapped his shoulder. "Make sure you have your cellphone then." 
  Nick pulled it out of his pocket to show them, then slid it back inside. He 
  reached for Urs and kissed her. "Enjoy the show. And do not hurry back. I 
  insist." 
  "Yes, sir," she said, giving a mock salute. 
  Nick waited until he felt their presence leave the sailboat before he went up 
  on deck. He still got turned around almost as much as before, but now it no 
  longer terrified him. He only had to find something familiar to find his way. 
  Most buildings gave off no aura, but he could sense graveyards and churches by 
  the chill of good and evil. He could tell bars by the smells of sweat, beer, 
  and cigarette smoke. He knew the streets of Chicago as well as he knew 
  Toronto, except for the suburbs which had sprung up since he'd last lived 
  here. 
  "C'mon, Perry. Lucius used to live downtown, near the Sun Times. We'll start 
  there." 
  Perry waited until he felt Nick take a firm grip on his harness before leaping 
  into the air. They flew a short distance to the pier. Nick chose a direction 
  and Perry guided him around the uneven pavement, the curbs and stoplights, and 
  all the other hazards to which Nick was oblivious. Sure, he could take care of 
  himself! In a pig's eye! 
  Nick had fed well and he was too excited to notice the ache in his gut. He was 
  out alone, feeling proud and independent. He found the bus stop, and counted 
  the correct change. When he got off, he breathed in deeply. Chicago still 
  seemed like his home away from home. 
  LaCroix didn't like this city, and neither did Janette. Nick's years here had 
  been brief times of independence. Perhaps that was why he had felt so impelled 
  to come here now? 
  The Sun Times building was busy. Deadlines had come and gone, some reporters 
  undoubtedly were still scrambling to produce their copy. Type was being set 
  and the sleeping giants were pressing out tomorrow's paper. Before long crews 
  of trucks would deliver stacks of papers to the many news stands and stores 
  throughout the city. Nick had never worked for a newspaper, but when he had 
  befriended Lucius Snow, he had taken more of an interest in the news. Lucius 
  had a private office in the bowels of the building somewhere. He had been 
  mostly retired even back then, but wherever a news story was breaking, he 
  seemed to be right in the middle of it. He had an uncanny ability to find 
  trouble. 
  Nick used powers of persuasion to slip passed the guard. It pleased him that 
  he still had the touch. With Perry's help, he found an elevator and took it to 
  the basement. 
  Some one dropped something... by the sounds it could have been a mop or a 
  broom. "Nick? Nick Knight? It is you! Why, I would have known you anywhere! 
  What brings you back to Chicago?" 
  Nick extended his hand and waited until the man took it. He clasped the hand, 
  reaching out to sense the mortal before him. The man was old. Nick could tell 
  by the slow shallow heartbeat, the wheezy breath, and the swollen, gnarled 
  joints in the hand. The man also smelled of ammonia and cleansers, dust, 
  grease, and chewing tobacco. Then Nick recognized him. 
  "You still work here?" Nick exclaimed. The janitor had been old years ago. 
  "Yes, yes, I do. But what brings you back to Chicago? And what happened to 
  you?" 
  Nick cocked his head, wondering what the janitor meant. "Oh, my eyesight. It 
  is a recent injury. I'm back just visiting. Do you have an address for 
  Lucius?" 
  The janitor stammered quietly. "Um, Nick, I'm sorry to bring you bad news, 
  but, well, Lucius passed on a few years ago." 
  Nick swallowed. The agony of loss washed over him. Of course, Lucius had been 
  older even than the janitor. But, who now would rally to the old man's causes? 
  Who would be there to save the day, as Lucius had always been? 
  "You come on in and sit a spell," the janitor said, taking Nick's arm and 
  patting it paternally. "Lucius thought a lot of you. I know he missed you when 
  you had to leave. I wish I could give you something of his, but, well I gave 
  his few belongings to another young man." 
  "Who?" 
  "He's a local bar owner, by the name of Gary Hobson." 
  "What was he to Lucius," Nick pressed, surprised at the jealous feeling. 
  "He never actually met Lucius," the janitor said. "At least, not while he was 
  alive. But, he seemed linked to him somehow. And he is consumed with that 
  paper, just like Lucius." 
  Some young nut, no doubt, Nick thought derisively. 
  "You should go and talk to him," the janitor suggested. "Maybe Lucius left 
  something for you among his things." 
  Nick shrugged indifferently. "Maybe. Where did you say he lived?" 
  He memorized the address. It wasn't far and he could just walk. "Thanks," he 
  said, getting up to leave. 
  "You sure look great, son. Must be some truth to the story that sunlight ages 
  a body." 
  Nick shook his hand. "I've taken up enough of your time. Thanks." 
  "You go visit him now. He's a little weird, but he kind of grows on you." 
  *Great,* Nick thought. * Just what I need.* He rolled his shoulders and 
  breathed in deeply. Some of his earlier excitement had dwindled, but not all. 
  Lucius would be missed. 
  He turned towards McGinty's Bar. Odd that this Gary person should be living 
  there now, as he had met Lucius there often. It was a dark little hole, but 
  cleaner than most bars and the music was never so loud that it hurt. 
  Pushing open the door, Nick tried to get a sense for the patrons. There were a 
  few couples and groups at tables. There were warm food smells. The new 
  management must have made some improvements. He took a seat at the bar and 
  ordered a glass of red wine. He'd be unable to drink any of it, but at least 
  he could hold the glass. 
  "Is Gary Hobson around," he asked. 
  "He'll be in later. Are you a friend of his?" 
  "No, we never met." 
  "Then how did you hear about him?" The bartender sounded young and not too 
  concerned. She was likely just making polite conversation. 
  "We had a mutual friend, a Lucius Snow." 
  The bartender made a sound of surprise. "Oh, hi, Marissa! Hey, come over here 
  and meet - excuse me, what is your name?" 
  "Nick Knight." 
  "He's a friend of Lucius Snow's." 
  Nick craned his head to listen to the woman approaching. She took the stool 
  next to him and accepted what smelled like coffee from the bartender. She 
  smelled nice. 
  "So, any friend of Lucius's is a friend of ours. Hi. What brings you to 
  Chicago?" 
  Nick found himself relaxing in Marissa's company. She had a warm, pleasant 
  voice and made him feel truly welcome. They talked for nearly two hours! Gary 
  Hobson never did show up, but she didn't seem too concerned about him. Snow 
  had been like that too, hard to nail down. 
  Marissa seemed nervous though, as the night wore on. Nick heard her pulse 
  quicken. "It must be late enough now. I should be going home." 
  "I'm sorry Gary isn't back yet," the bartender said. "Would you like me to 
  call you a cab?" 
  "May I walk you home?" Nick offered. A woman alone wouldn't walk anywhere in 
  the city this time of night. 
  "Oh, I don't want to trouble you," she said. 
  "No trouble at all," Nick said, getting to his feet. He reached down for 
  Perry's harness and took a step away from the bar. Only, Perry didn't move. 
  Nick tugged on the harness again, but the dog whined softly. 
  "What the?" Marissa exclaimed. 
  Nick reached down to touch the dog, knowing already that it wasn't Perry. The 
  dog was a golden retriever, also wearing a harness, but it was mortal and 
  female. 
  "I think you have my dog," Nick said, "and I got yours." 
  Marissa laughed. She released Perry's harness and reached out to touch Nick's 
  sleeve. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't realize that you were blind also. But 
  I like your taste. Golden Retrievers make the nicest friends." 
  Nick took Perry's harness in one hand, and looped Marissa's hand around his 
  arm. "Where to, milady?" he asked with a flourish. 
  Marissa's laugh was soft and musical. Following her directions, he turned at 
  the corner and together they strolled up the side street. He was too relaxed. 
  He was having a good time, and these had once been his streets. Only, times 
  had changed. 
  Suddenly, Perry growled menacingly, and Nick sensed a gang of kids 
  approaching. He pulled Marissa in behind him protectively. 
  "What is it, Nick?" she asked nervously. 
  "Just some kids," he said. "You boys go on along home. We don't want any 
  trouble." Nick lowered his voice, allowing the power of the vampire to slide 
  through the words. 
  Some of the kids hesitated, but there were too many of them. The leader 
  pressed closer. 
  "Look what we gots, boys. A coupla freaks. Won't worry about 'em givin' our 
  faces to nobody!" 
  Marissa's hand trembled. Nick could hear her pulse thundering, distracting 
  him. He tried to focus on the street gang. Perry strained at his harness, 
  growling and baring his teeth. Nick tried to hold him back, but Perry broke 
  free, knocking one of the boys to the ground. Nick smelled the boy's blood as 
  it spurted from the carouche's bite. 
  Then all hell broke loose. Nick felt hands grab him, and searing pain as a 
  knife plunged into his gut. He heard Perry yelp. Marissa was screaming. Nick's 
  pockets were searched, they grabbed his wallet and dropped him to the sidewalk 
  as they raced away. 
  "Perry!" Nick shouted. He clutched his belly, the blood oozing between his 
  fingers. *Damn *, he thought. *I told them I could take care of myself... * He 
  blinked, wondering vaguely what color his eyes were, and where was his dog? 
  "Nick, where are you? Nick!" Marissa shouted. 
  He groaned. It hurt, but he had to get up, had to protect the lady. He had 
  failed her. How had the pleasant evening turned out so wrong? 
  He felt a dog's nose sniff him. He started to reach for it, but it wasn't 
  Perry. Then Marissa touched his face. 
  "Oh dear God," she prayed. "You're cold as death! I'll call for help. Please 
  hang on!" 
  *No help, * he thought. He tried to make the words come out. 
  "Marissa!" shouted another voice. 
  "Gary! I'm here! Come quick! Nick's been hurt!" 
  Another pair of hands was on him. Nick curled up, trying to pull away >from the 
  stranger. 
  "Nick, this is my friend, Gary Hobson," Marissa's voice comforted him. 
  "I'm so sorry, Marissa," Gary said. "The paper changed. This wasn't in there 
  this morning. Mister, just lie still." 
  Nick was going to pass out. He tried to fight it. Where was Perry? "My dog?" 
  he demanded. "Where's my dog?" 
  Gary looked around. He saw blood on the pavement. "I don't see him. Maybe 
  he'll come back on his own. You're bleeding pretty hard, we have to get you to 
  a hospital." 
  "No! No hospital," Nick shouted. 
  Gary ignored him as he pulled out a cellphone and dialed. "Marissa, the 
  emergency van is just a few blocks away," he said. "I passed them as I was 
  going home. They'll be here soon." 
  Marissa touched Nick's face again. "Hang on there, Nick. Please!" 
  Nick closed his eyes. It didn't really hurt, either. That was the strangest 
  thing. He missed Perry. 
  A large vehicle approached. It rattled as it pulled to a stop, but the door 
  flung open and several people were pawing at Nick. He tried to turn on his 
  side to keep them away, but they were stronger than he was right now. 
  "He's got no pulse," said a woman's voice. 
  Nick forced his eyes open then and the woman screamed. 
  "Get me inside," Nick said softly, concentrating on the nearest face. 
  "Let's get him in the van." 
  Nick felt them lift him. The movement jarred something and pain burst through 
  his gut with vengeance. He grit his teeth, but not before a loud cry escaped. 
  He heard Marissa sobbing. 
  "Can you tell me what happened," someone was asking her. Marissa gasped as she 
  gave an account. Nick tried to sense the doctors around him as he worried how 
  he'd get out of this mess. He was laid on a small table, thick wads of gauze 
  stuffed over the knife wound. The doctors were going to give him an IV, and 
  run him in to the emergency room for x-rays. 
  "No hospital," Nick growled fiercely. 
  The woman objected, but the male doctor silenced her. His voice was gentle, 
  and he spoke with an Eastern European accent. "Why no hospital? Is it the 
  money? Or against your beliefs?" 
  "Send her away," Nick commanded. 
  The woman made a disparate sound, but Nick heard her leave, as she went out to 
  check on Marissa, no doubt. 
  "We are alone now," came the cultured voice. "My name is Luka Kovach. You have 
  a serious injury. You are bleeding profusely. If I do not do something, you 
  will die." 
  Then Nick heard him utter a cry of alarm. Nick blinked, wondering if he'd 
  slipped. 
  "You're eyes! You're a... a... dear God. You're a vampire," Luka whispered. 
  Nick sighed. Damn it. Now what? 
  Instantly a unit of blood was placed in his hands. Nick allowed his fangs to 
  descend and he drained the unit, and three more afterwards. Luka cut away the 
  blood-soaked, ruined shirt and removed the soiled wads of gauze. 
  "You're still bleeding," he said. "I do not understand. Shouldn't this have 
  closed by now?" 
  "Not for me," Nick said wearily. "It's a long story. But my wounds take longer 
  to heal." 
  "So, what can I do? I know I can't just sew you up." 
  "How do you know?" 
  Luka laughed lightly. "In my country, many old people believe in vampires. I 
  have even met one or two before. Don't worry, I know that is not allowed. I 
  will keep your identity secret." The doctor put more gauze on the wound then, 
  and taped it tightly with wide strips of adhesive. Then he gave Nick his 
  cellphone number. "Call me, if this is still bleeding tomorrow." 
  "Thank you," Nick answered sincerely. 
  "No problem. A vampire once saved my life. I'm glad to return the favor." He 
  took more gauze and gently washed the blood from Nick's hands and chest, then 
  he helped Nick to the sidewalk, where Marissa and Gary still waited. 
  Marissa was still weeping, and Gary was talking to a reporter. By the tone of 
  his voice, it wasn't a conversation he wanted to be having. 
  "Your friend here is very lucky," Luka told Marissa. "The wound is not as 
  severe as it first looked. Nick, get some rest, and if you have any 
  difficulties, give me a call." 
  "Oh, that's a relief," Marissa exclaimed. "Nick, I was so worried about you! 
  Where are you staying?" 
  Nick wanted his dog back. How had the reporter gotten here so quickly? And 
  where would he go now? He could not return to the boat, not without Perry. 
  This whole vacation would be ruined if the younger vampires insisted on 
  babysitting him. 
  "I don't have a place yet," Nick said. 
  "Then you're going home with Gary." 
  "What?" Gary said, whirling around. "No, no, Marissa." 
  "Yes, Gary. You said this was partly your fault. Now you'll give Nick a hand, 
  at least until his dog is found, and I won't hear another word about it." 
  Gary stuttered some, but he agreed. Nick put an arm on Gary's shoulder as he 
  still felt a little woozy, and let the mortal help him. 
  "I'll see you tomorrow, Nick," Marissa said. She leaned in close and patted 
  his face gently. Then she let one of the police officers give her a ride. 
  Nick felt something odd about Gary. Even as weak as he was, he knew that Gary 
  was not what he seemed. Maybe he should give in and call Vachon anyway? But 
  Marissa trusted him, perhaps foolishly. Nick had to learn more about him, if 
  only for Marissa's sake. 
  Gary was stuttering something polite. Nick hadn't been listening. He found 
  Gary's speech somewhat annoying. Gary seemed to be very young. Nick pegged him 
  for about 25, give or take a year. And he had a very low heart rate. He must 
  run a lot. 
  They went up a narrow stairs, and then Gary was opening the door to his 
  apartment. "I'll get you one of my shirts," Gary said. "Yours is ruined." 
  Nick was about to offer to repay him, when he remembered that the kids had 
  taken his wallet. Silently he accepted the shirt. It was a little wide through 
  the shoulders and not as long as he liked, but it would suffice. Gary led him 
  to the living room where Nick sank gratefully onto a couch. Almost immediately 
  a cat leaped into his lap and started to knead its paws, purring loudly. Nick 
  reached out tentatively, letting the cat sniff his hand before he stroked its 
  ears. 
  "Imagine that," Gary commented. "The cat isn't usually so friendly." 
  "My father's girlfriend has a cat," Nick admitted. "The little furball usually 
  sleeps on my bed." He yawned, then shut his mouth and shuddered. He was so 
  tired. 
  Gary stammered something again. Nick only half heard him, something about a 
  pillow. In moments a soft pillow was laid on the arm of the couch. Nick felt 
  it, and stretching out, laid down. A cover was placed over him. He heard a 
  switch being flipped, no doubt turning the room dark. He smiled ruefully. What 
  did it matter to him if Gary left all the lights on? 
  A phone rang. Nick listened, wondering for a moment if it might be his 
  friends, but of course, they wouldn't know where he was. 
  "Hello Marissa," Gary said, taking the phone into his bedroom for privacy. 
  Nick could hear him anyway, and Marissa as well. He closed his eyes, feigning 
  sleep. If he were a good neighbor, he would tune out the conversation. But he 
  didn't trust Gary. 
  "I told you, the paper changed," Gary said. "This morning, it said you were 
  mugged. That's why I told you to wait for me. Then, I got held up at the 
  sleep-in at the science museum looking for a lost child, and when I checked 
  again, it said that three boys were attacked by a seeing-eye dog. There was 
  nothing in the paper about you or him." 
  "Gary, those boys mugged us! Nick's dog was only defending us." 
  "That's not what the paper said." 
  "Then it lied!" 
  They weren't making sense, Nick thought. Maybe he was more tired than he 
  realized. Of course their attack wouldn't be in the paper yet, it had just 
  happened. He would have to get in touch with his friends before tomorrow's 
  news hit the street, though. 
  Gary came back into the living room to hang up the phone. "It's been a long 
  day, Nick. I'm going to get some sleep." 
  "Likewise," Nick said. "Thank you for the couch." 
  "'night." 
  Nick waited until he heard Gary's breathing slow and he knew he was asleep. 
  Then he pulled his cellphone from his pocket and called Vachon. 
  Vachon answered it on the fourth ring. "Sorry, Knight," he said. "We passed 
  this nightclub on the way back to the boat, and Urs recognized one of the 
  singers, and we had to go in. It's pretty hopping here, if you want to join 
  us." 
  "No, thanks. I've met some old friends, and I'm going to crash at their place 
  for the day, so don't worry." He listened as Vachon related the news to Tracy 
  and Urs, then heard them all wish him well. Exhausted, he returned the phone 
  to his pocket and went to sleep. 
    
    
  Chapter five: 
  A soft, feminine hand touched his cheek. Nick startled to wakefulness, 
  flinching away from the contact as his fangs exploded. 
  "It's alright, Nick. It's me, Marissa. You've been asleep for nearly ten 
  hours. I wanted to see how you are doing." 
  He listened, reaching out to sense the room. Gary was gone, and there were no 
  others present, just her and her dog. He felt a sharp pang as he worried for 
  Perry. At least, with just a blind woman, he was safe from discovery. He 
  swallowed, forcing his fangs to withdraw. 
  "Good evening, Marissa. I'm sorry about last night." 
  "It wasn't your fault, Nick. You have no reason to be sorry." He sat up, 
  wincing a little. His stomach still hurt. Tentatively he touched the gauze 
  bandages inside his shirt. His fingers came away sticky. * Damn, * he thought. 

  Marissa touched him again. "How are you doing? You feel so cold." 
  "I'm a little stiff and sore," he admitted. "But I'll be fine. I have to go 
  and look for my dog." 
  "Gary went out to look for him. I'm supposed to bring you downstairs and see 
  that you get something to eat. Then we can go to the police and give them a 
  statement. How much money did the kids take from you?" 
  Nick didn't want to go to the police. It had been forty years since he worked 
  there and everyone he knew should have retired, but there was that photo of 
  him, recognizing him for heroism the night his partner was wounded. Of course, 
  forty years was about the right length of time... he could just pretend to be 
  his own son. It made a certain strange logic, like father like son. 
  He stood and sat back down again suddenly as a wave of dizziness washed over 
  him. 
  "Take it easy," Marissa chided gently. "I disagree with that doctor's 
  evaluation. Any knife wound is serious." 
  "I'll be fine," Nick insisted. "But I really couldn't eat a thing right now." 
  The door burst open and Gary flew into the room. "Good, you're up," he said. 
  "I- I'm supposed to take you down to the station now." 
  Nick tried to stand again, moving more slowly this time. "Did you find any 
  sign of my dog?" he asked. 
  "No, I'm sorry." Gary's voice dropped. He sounded sincere. Nick wondered if he 
  was judging the boy too harshly. He took Gary's arm and followed him 
  downstairs, getting into a minivan. Gary reached around to snap his seatbelt. 
  Nick was reminded of Natalie, and all the times she had done that for him. The 
  Caddy didn't have seatbelts, and since an accident would only be mildly 
  annoying, he'd never got in the habit of wearing one. 
  Marissa and her dog climbed in as well, then Gary started the engine. "One of 
  the kids went to police, claiming that your dog attacked him first," Gary 
  said. "They've put out an APB on him. That should be good news, actually, 
  since it means that the entire force is looking for him, but when he's found, 
  he may be impounded for a while." 
  "Perry was defending us," Nick snapped. "If not for him, Marissa could have 
  been killed." 
  "I - I - understand, b- but the kid had twenty-six stitches in his arm. And he 
  denied that there were any others with him. It's your word against his." Gary 
  wasn't saying everything he knew. Nick sensed he was keeping something from 
  him, and noted that Gary stuttered more when he was trying to deceive. He 
  wondered if Marissa had noticed that as well. 
  "Mine and Marissa's," Nick amended. 
  "Yeah, well the word of two blind people isn't going to be taken very 
  seriously," Gary said. "I believe you, but the police don't put much store by 
  anything I say." 
  The van stopped. Nick heard Gary draw in a deep breath before he opened the 
  door and got out. Why did he dread facing the police? What was it he was 
  hiding? Nick felt his police instincts kick in, and he thrilled at the sense 
  of purpose. 
  It bugged him a little to depend on Gary to get around, but until Perry was 
  found, there was nothing he could do about it. He felt a strange sense of 
  welcome as he walked through the familiar building, remembering smells and 
  sounds. He was brought into a noisy bullpen and shown to a chair. Marissa took 
  a chair about thirty feet away. They would be questioned separately, then 
  their stories compared. It was standard procedure. 
  The police detective assigned to Nick had a pleasant voice. Nick recognized 
  certain elements of his speech and guessed the officer was native to downtown 
  Chicago. The officer introduced himself as "Detective Powers." Nick nodded, 
  then gave his full name. 
  "I am Detective Nicholas Knight, Toronto Police Department," he said. 
  Powers gave a surprised grunt. "A police officer? What precinct? What brings 
  you here?" 
  Nick told him the information and heard the officer scribble it down. He also 
  heard someone tap into a computer, no doubt bringing up the information to 
  corroborate his claim. Almost immediately he sensed a change in the room. He 
  was one of them. 
  Several others crowded around Powers's desk to welcome him and exchange 
  pleasantries. Then someone recognized him. "Say, was your father the Nicholas 
  Knight that once worked here?" 
  Nick nodded. 
  "Jeez, that's amazing. You look just like him. How's he doing these days?" 
  Nick thought fast. Toronto believed he had been orphaned and raised by 
  LaCroix. He had to keep that much. "He passed away when I was very young," he 
  said then. "But my foster father told me about him." 
  A cup of coffee was placed in his hands. He heard a dozen more words of 
  welcome, before the captain finally chased them all back to work. "It's a 
  cryin' shame that this had to happen to you, Detective. We'll do our best to 
  find your dog. He is up to date on his shots, isn't he?" 
  Was he? Nick had never asked. He knew Perry couldn't have rabies, and so he 
  nodded, and yet, if they wanted proof, there would be no record, no 
  veterinarian bills. He'd have to call LaCroix tonight. Perhaps Larry Merlin 
  could work another miracle in creating a virtual paper trail for the carouche. 

  "Now," Powers said, clearing his throat. "What can you tell me about last 
  night?" 
  Nick began, mentioning what time it was when he had left the bar. He described 
  what street they had turned on, and how far they got before he heard the kids 
  approach. "There were about fifteen of them," he said. He knew there were 
  fifteen exactly, he had heard that many heartbeats, and yet he couldn't 
  explain that. "They grabbed Marissa's purse first, then Perry got away from 
  me. I heard him yelp. I think one of them knifed him, just before they got 
  me." 
  The officer shuddered, making a sound of disgust. Nick had wondered about 
  bringing the police into this, but now one of "their own" had been injured. 
  Those kids didn't stand a chance. Nick couldn't work up any remorse. He wanted 
  his dog back. 
  He heard Marissa's statement draw to a close, and Gary answered a few 
  questions as well. Nick turned his attention back to Powers. "What's Hobson's 
  story?" He wouldn't have been able to ask before, but now he was certain they 
  would talk to him. 
  "Gary's harmless," the officer said. "A bit of a kook. He's also cursed, like, 
  he's always at the wrong place at the wrong time. Some of the others don't 
  trust him, because he knows things. But he's okay. He rescued my wife when she 
  was drowning at a pool in a women's health spa. I don't know what he was doing 
  there, or how he knew she was in trouble, but the fact remains, she's alive 
  because of him." 
  Nick shook his hand, and accepted his assistance to stand. His stomach was 
  throbbing. He would need to feed soon, and he should change the bandages, 
  before they soaked through onto his borrowed shirt. Maybe he'd have to stop 
  back and see that doctor again. 
  "You sure made friends easily," Gary grumbled. "You could have told me you 
  were a cop." 
  "You didn't ask," Nick said. 
  "Gary, how about dinner? Nick hasn't eaten yet, and I could use something 
  myself," Marissa interrupted. 
  Gary did that stuttering thing again, that warned Nick he was no longer being 
  truthful. "I can't right now, Marissa, I have that uh, uh, thing, that I do, 
  on uh, Wednesday nights..." 
  "Oh, yes," Marissa agreed, buying the flimsy excuse as though it were some 
  private message. "You run along. Just drop us off at the bar. I'll see you 
  later?" 
  Settled once again on Gary's couch, Nick accepted a cup of coffee from 
  Marissa. Its greasy smell turned his stomach, but he thanked her politely. 
  "What is it with Gary," he asked. "He seems a little odd." 
  Marissa laughed. "He is different. But he means well." 
  "Have you known him long? I don't trust him." 
  "For years," she said. "And strange, but he doesn't trust you, either. I think 
  you both are being foolish." 
  "I should make a few calls," Nick said. "Then, perhaps you would like to go 
  somewhere?" 
  She smiled. "That sounds nice. I'll be downstairs when you are ready." 
  First he called the doctor, using the cellphone number he had given him. 
  "Doctor Kovach," the cultured, accented voice answered. 
  "Yes, this is Nick," he said. "I could use your help." 
  Luka promised to be over as soon as he could, and he would bring something for 
  him to drink. Then Nick called Vachon. 
  "The girls had a blast at that quilt exhibit," Vachon told him. "They had to 
  go back tonight. Tomorrow night they want to see the submarine at the Museum 
  of Science and Industry. Want to come?" 
  "No, thanks," Nick said. "I've been on one before. I'll just hang out with my 
  friends. You have fun, though." 
  Finally, he reported his stolen credit cards and arranged to have funds made 
  available. A courier would be sent over within the hour to deliver a new card 
  and an amount cash. Nick smiled ruefully, wondering what Tracy would call the 
  ability to hypnotized someone over the phone - the newest technique in vampire 
  ability, the tele-whammy? 
  When Luka arrived, he changed the dressings on the knife wound. "This does 
  look better," he told Nick. "At this rate, by morning it should be healed 
  over." 
  "How can I thank you," Nick asked simply. 
  "If you ever get to Croatia, save someone's child." 
  Nick nodded, sensing the strong emotions in the young doctor. "I will." 
  Later, Nick dialed the information hotline for a listing of current 
  attractions. Another phone call and he had reservations for the Strolling 
  Strings concert at the Candlelight Dinner Theater. He checked his watch. The 
  trip to the police station had taken longer than he'd thought. They would have 
  to hurry to make the concert. 
  Marissa seemed unsure. "Nick, I'm not dressed for a concert," she stalled. 
  He grinned. Although the gesture was lost on her, she could hear the humor in 
  his voice. "You look great to me," he quipped. 
  When she persisted, Nick told her more about it. "This isn't the Chicago 
  Symphony. It is a group of kids. Semi-casual is fine. There will be a dinner 
  served, and the kids wander among the tables while they play." 
  Marissa's response was to take his arm. "Lead on," she said. 
  They were shown to a table. The smells of food were faint enough that Nick 
  guessed the meal had not yet been served. There was a hum of conversation 
  around the room. He caught snips and pieces from half a dozen tables. Some 
  were businessmen, some were retired wealthy couples. A few were the proud 
  parents. Then the noise level dropped as dishes were being served. Nick tried 
  not to gag at the Rosemary Chicken set before him. He hoped Marissa's dog was 
  hungry. When all the food was set, then there was a rustle of satin as two 
  dozen children entered. 
  "The girls wear blue taffeta gowns, and the boys are in dark suits with blue 
  taffeta cummerbunds," Nick whispered for Marissa's benefit. At least, that's 
  what the kids had been wearing the last time he'd seen them play. He knew the 
  director well and the small group did not have the funds to change their 
  costumes often. 
  "How do you know about them?" Marissa asked softly, but before Nick could 
  answer, the children raised their instruments. 
  A quiet hush fell on the guests. The bows were placed almost silently on their 
  strings, then at once they all began to play. The first number was the New 
  World Symphony by Anton Dvorak. It was a stirring song, symbolic of the new 
  life the European immigrants hoped to find as they journeyed to America. Nick 
  had heard it many times before, but never as sweet as now. For these children, 
  the Suzuki students from some of the poorest homes of inner-city Chicago, the 
  new life symbolized was their own. 
  "They are good," Marissa whispered, a sense of awe in her voice. "How old are 
  they?" 
  "We can ask the director after the performance," Nick began, "but the last 
  time I heard them, the youngest was only seven. A few of them are in high 
  school, but the majority are about twelve years old." 
  The young musicians strolled among the tables as they moved into their next 
  number, a medley of songs from the 1920's. Another classical number, and then 
  some fiddle music, then two young violinists came right up to Nick's table as 
  they moved into their medley of Irish songs. "To My Wild Irish Rose" rang out 
  on first and second violins right in front of Marissa. 
  The children played one more song, "Happy Birthday", for one of the guests, 
  then they exited amid thundering applause. Nick helped Marissa to her feet. 
  "Come with me. We'll say hello to the kids before they leave," he whispered. 
  Marissa didn't understand her dog's reluctance to leave, but Nick suspected 
  the chicken breast wasn't quite all gone. Still, the well-trained golden 
  retriever helped the blind couple through the maze of tables until they joined 
  the young musicians in a back hall of the dinner theater, where they were 
  putting their instruments back into their cases. 
  The director came over and gave Nick a warm embrace. "Hello, Nick! What a 
  pleasant surprise! Why didn't you call and tell me you were going to be here?" 

  Nick shrugged. "I didn't know you'd be performing here until a few hours ago. 
  Mrs. Wernike, I'd like you to meet Marissa Walker. Marissa, this lady is 
  responsible for training over 500 children to make music." 
  "It's "Anne"," the director amended. "And Suzuki isn't about teaching kids to 
  play the violin, or the viola, or the piano. It is about teaching them to have 
  beautiful souls capable of enjoying music." 
  Marissa smiled. "I'm impressed. They are so very talented." 
  "Ah, that they are," the director stated proudly. "But it is a tenet of Suzuki 
  dogma that talent is taught and not inherited. These are just normal kids. 
  They come from a variety of ethnic backgrounds. Many come to me from poor 
  homes, from dangerous neighborhoods where drugs and violence are a way of 
  life. We show them that life can be so much more than that." 
  "How did you get funding for this?" Marissa knew how the public schools 
  worked. For the past twenty years music programs were being cut all across the 
  nation. 
  Nick shifted uneasily, suddenly squirming like a nervous schoolboy. The 
  director grabbed his arm and gave it a squeeze. "This young knight rescued 
  us," she said proudly. "He donated the money to buy a hundred violins and 
  violas in all sizes. That was the birth of our program." 
  The director saw a hurt look on the face of one of her older students, and 
  turned to Nick to ask why he hadn't greeted him yet. Then she saw the way he 
  held Marissa's arm, and although his eyes smiled, they didn't quite focus. She 
  saw the guide dog at Marissa's heel. "Come over here, Eddy. Nick, you remember 
  Eddy, don't you?" 
  The teenage boy shuffled as he approached reluctantly. Nick grinned as the 
  familiar scent came to him. "Eddy Mansen? Little Eddy? How are you?" He 
  extended his hand and waited for the youth to shake it. The boy then realized 
  Nick was blind. 
  "I'm doing fine," he mumbled nervously. 
  "Marissa, Eddy is the future Itzak Perlman. He is fantastic." 
  "Thanks, Nick. For everything. I got in to Interlocken." 
  Nick smiled proudly. The director wasn't through singing his praises, though. 
  "Nick provided the funds so Eddy could make his audition at the prestigious 
  high school in Michigan. Eddy qualified for a full scholarship." 
  "Anne, I'd better leave before you put my name in for sainthood," he grumbled. 

  "Oh, not you," she insisted. "You're the devil's own son, I'm sure. A true 
  rogue but with a good heart. You two have a pleasant evening. I have to get 
  these children home. School starts in two days, and their parents want them to 
  start getting to bed earlier." 
  Nick and Marissa walked with the director as she herded the children outside 
  towards their waiting bus, when she made a loud sound of annoyance. "You! What 
  do you think you are doing? Get away from that bus!" 
  A familiar young voice started to stutter. "Ah, hello, I'm uh, inspecting your 
  vehicle. Your inspection sticker is due to expire soon. You need to have it 
  looked at right away." 
  "Gary?" Marissa asked. 
  "Young man, the sticker is good for another three months and the bus works 
  just fine. Get away from there or I'll call the police." 
  Gary's heart rate elevated drastically. Nick cocked his head and took a step 
  nearer, curious to why the young man smelled of fear. 
  "You cannot drive the kids home in this," Gary insisted. 
  "It is their bedtime! Go away." She pushed her way past Gary and began to 
  usher the children onto the bus. 
  "Nick, Gary's right. If he says the bus isn't safe, he's telling the truth. 
  You have to do something!" Marissa smelled of fear now, too. Nick reached for 
  the side of the bus, then he walked around it slowly. He smelled gas and oil 
  and chewing gum and exhaust, but there was another smell as well. It was 
  stronger by the back, passenger-side tires. He tapped with his toe and heard a 
  small puddle splat, although it had not rained. Reaching under the wheel well, 
  he found the two halves of the break line... someone had sliced it through. 
  "Anne, look at this," Nick said softly, trying not to alarm the children. 
  "Oh, dear God," she breathed. Turning, she glared at Gary. "How could you do 
  such a thing!" 
  Marissa touched the woman's arm. "He didn't, ma'am. I can't tell you how he 
  knew that the children were in danger. He sometimes gets these feelings, and 
  I've learned he's almost never wrong. But he would never intentionally hurt 
  some one." 
  Anne began to tremble. Nick pulled her into his embrace, wondering when the 
  vibrant young music teacher had grown so much older. "It's all right. You're 
  safe, and the children are, for now. Let me call some cabs to take all of you 
  home, and we'll have the bus repaired in no time." 
  The director nodded meekly, still trembling. "They're just kids! Who would 
  want to hurt a busload of children?" 
  Unfortunately, too many people, Nick thought sadly. 
  Anne gasped then, and turned angrily. "Put that damn thing away! You've no 
  right to plaster pictures of these children all over your paper tomorrow!" 
  "This is news, ma'am," came a smooth voice that sounded vaguely familiar. It 
  was the reporter from last night's attack. 
  Gary grabbed the reporter and dragged him away. Nick heard him stutter angrily 
  as he made up another story. "This is not a story, just an accident. The kids 
  are fine, and you can just take your camera and go look for mold growing 
  somewhere." 
  Nick smiled as he pulled his cellphone and called for three stretch 
  limousines. The teacher did not want any children going anywhere without an 
  adult, so Nick and Marissa got in one limo, Gary in another, and the teacher 
  in the third. They managed to cram all the young students and their 
  instruments inside. It took over an hour to deliver them to their homes. Nick 
  wanted to talk more with Anne about the incident, to find out if anyone had 
  ever threatened her or her program, but she was too distraught. That would 
  have to wait. He also wanted to know how Gary had got there and what he was 
  doing. Gary, however, seemed in a terrible rush once they got back to 
  McGinty's. Marissa accepted the flimsy excuse he babbled off, and Gary ran 
  away into the night. 
  "Weird doesn't begin to explain that," Nick mumbled to himself. 
  "I enjoyed the concert," Marissa said. "Thank you." 
  "Is this good night?" he asked, surprised at the sudden panic that swept over 
  him. 
  "Hm. It's late. I have to work in the morning." 
  Of course. Not all blind people worked night shift, he thought dryly. And he 
  realized that he had thoroughly enjoyed himself. It was strange, really. He 
  knew he wasn't romantically interested in her, but there was just something 
  about her. Perhaps because she was blind, he felt such a bond? He was relaxed 
  in her company and he felt whole. He didn't have to worry about his fangs 
  slipping or what color his eyes were, or if his shirt was buttoned up wrong. 
  She was so easy to talk with. 
  "I should get back to my boat then, I guess," Nick said. 
  "Boat?" 
  "Ah, yes. I sailed here with some friends," he said awkwardly. 
  "Then why didn't you say so yesterday? We should have called them, let them 
  know you were hurt!" Marissa's voice didn't get louder, but Nick felt like she 
  was scolding him no less. 
  "I haven't been blind for very long," he explained. "Barely eight months. And 
  in all that time, I've never been left alone. My father, his girlfriend, my 
  litter sister, her boyfriend, and all of my friends and acquaintances have 
  been hovering over me, making sure I don't stub my toe on the way to the 
  bathroom. It is getting to be more than just annoying. Traveling to McGinty's 
  yesterday with Perry was one of my first times ever being truly on my own. If 
  they knew I'd been injured, it would have been the last time." 
  Marissa sighed, laughing humorlessly. "Nick, if that wound had been any 
  deeper, it certainly would have been the last." 
  "Please, Marissa. I'll have to tell them about Perry, but don't say a word to 
  them about the knife." 
  She patted his arm consolingly. "I won't say a word. If they aren't alert 
  enough to see your pain, than perhaps they don't deserve to know." 
  "Thanks," he said. He called Vachon then and briefly explained about Perry. 
  Marissa sat with him while they both waited for their rides. Nick grinned 
  broadly when Vachon showed up on a Harley Davidson. The Spaniard just grinned 
  without explaining how he'd acquired it. "May I see you again while I'm here," 
  Nick asked. 
  "I'd like that," Marissa answered. 
  Vachon whistled as he revved the bike. "Man, Nick. You keep one in every 
  port?" 
  Vachon didn't take him right back to the boat. "The girls are out flying over 
  the city looking for him," Vachon said. "I thought we'd travel on ground. I'll 
  watch for traffic and you call for your dog." 
  "Thanks, Javier," Nick said sincerely. 
  They searched for the rest of the night, but Nick could not sense Perry 
  anywhere. 
    
    
  Chapter six: 
  Natalie stared through the glass at the children in the Day School. She'd 
  spoken with the director, and volunteered her time for a few weeks. She would 
  come in every afternoon at 3:00, and do whatever was needed. Yesterday she had 
  read a story to them, and the day before she walked with them and their 
  teacher to the local ice cream shop. The owner had brought the kids behind the 
  counter and showed them how everything worked, then let them make their own 
  ice cream sundaes. She had marveled at his patience, as nearly as much ice 
  cream was wasted as actually made it into their bellies. They had been noisy 
  with their excitement. While she had enjoyed seeing their faces light up, she 
  couldn't wait to get into the restroom to scrub all of their hot fudge-sauce 
  stickiness from her hands, knees, shirt, and shoes. 
  The day before that she had tried to play with them, getting down on the floor 
  and stacking blocks. Nick had made it look so easy, several months ago, when 
  she'd seen him play with Charlotte in the day school at St. John's. She felt 
  faintly foolish. She didn't know what to say to the children. They blithely 
  ignored her. Eventually she was asked to move, so they could expand their 
  construction over the area of floor space she had occupied. 
  The day before that she had supervised the art corner, helping one child after 
  another to put on a smock, clipping large sheets of newsprint to the small 
  easels, printing their names on the wet, sloppy messes they called paintings, 
  and cringing as the yellow tempera paint stained her new jeans. 
  Today, she just observed them through the glass. The teachers were so natural 
  with them. They were patient and kind. She did not belong here. 
  The director came up behind her and laid a hand on her shoulder. "It is 
  different when they are your own," she said softly. 
  "What do you mean?" 
  The director smiled. "I don't mean to pry. But when a busy, professional 
  woman, especially one in her thirties, volunteers here, I suspect that they 
  are considering children of their own. Don't let the awkwardness you feel here 
  dissuade you." 
  Natalie felt a blush stain her cheeks, but she did not deny it. "How can I 
  ignore the fact I'm not cut out to be a mother," she said. 
  "Don't be too hard on yourself. Not all mothers can work at a day care. This 
  is demanding work, and requires great patience. A mother isn't a playmate. A 
  mother is someone who would consider the needs of her child above her own, 
  whether she provides for those needs herself, or ensures that someone else 
  does." 
  Natalie nodded. She felt very close to tears. "Thank you," she whispered. She 
  turned away and left. 
  ***** 
  "Nick, wake up! Come on, you have to wake up, this ship is going to blow!" 
  Nick felt the hands shake him, but he was still trapped in the deep sleep of 
  the undead. He struggled to wake, swimming through layers of darkness. Cold 
  water splashed on his face. He threw the hands off him fiercely. Gary crashed 
  into the opposite wall, cursing as he gasped for breath. 
  Nick blinked, forcing his fangs to withdraw. "What are you doing here," he 
  demanded. 
  "Trying to save your life," Gary grumbled, "although this isn't worth it." 
  Nick sat up and tried to get his bearings. He was back on his boat in Chicago. 
  How had Gary found him? He hadn't told anyone where he was staying, and there 
  were dozens of marinas on the great lake. 
  "Look! This boat is going to blow up any minute. I came to warn you, but it is 
  time to go. Are you coming with me!" Gary spoke firmly, with none of the 
  stuttering that was characteristic of one of his fabrications. 
  "How do you know," Nick demanded. 
  "I'll tell you later! Let's go!" Gary tugged on his arm, punctuating the 
  urgency. 
  Nick pulled free. He had crashed on the couch last night. Not wanting to 
  reveal the nearly healed knife wound to anyone, he'd alienated them with one 
  of his less-than stellar attitudes. He went to the bed to shake Urs awake and 
  called to Tracy. The younger vampires slept more soundly than he did. They had 
  driven themselves too hard last night as they searched for his carouche. They 
  were exhausted. "Come, Urs. We are in danger." 
  Vachon awoke then and flew at the mortal invader, knocking him to the ground. 
  Gary shouted an expletive before Nick could harness the Spaniard. 
  "Sorry," Nick said, offering Gary a hand up. "They're all just a bit 
  over-protective." He hoped the excuse would be enough. 
  "Nice to meet you all! Now let's go!" 
  Nick pulled a quilt from the bed and threw it over Urs. Vachon sleepily did 
  the same for Tracy. "The girls first, Gary," he said. 
  "I didn't know there were four of you here, but I think we can all fit in my 
  dingy," Gary said. "If we move." 
  "You and Vachon will take the girls first," Nick explained. "Vachon can return 
  for me. Go!" 
  Gary took the blanket-wrapped girl and hurried through the narrow stairs, 
  banging his head on the low ceiling. When he stepped onto the deck, the girl 
  cried out. He smelled something burning. Would he smell the fuse? Was it 
  already too late? He threw her over his shoulder and carried her down the rope 
  ladder onto the swaying little dingy, surprised to see the one called Vachon 
  already there. The dark stranger laid his bundle on the deck and spread 
  another quilt over both girls, their muffled sobs wafting up from beneath. 
  Gary stared at Vachon. His dark hair touched his shoulders, but his pale 
  complexion was badly burned, his eyes were golden orbs in a wild expression. 
  "Take them away! I'll catch up," Vachon commanded. Gary stared for a moment at 
  the sharp points of inhuman teeth, but he felt compelled to obey. Then Vachon 
  leaped the distance back onto the deck of the sailboat. Gary ignored the 
  crying girls as he took the oars and started to row. Then the bomb exploded. 
  The little dingy was lifted and tossed wildly. Wood splintered through the 
  air. One board whacked Gary's forehead, right where he'd smacked it not 
  moments before. He struggled furiously to keep the boat righted and pulled on 
  the oars to bring it to the pier. 
  "Nick?" came a cry from under the blanket. "Nick? Vachon?" 
  Gary stared at the wreckage. He could see no one trying to swim away, no 
  bodies floating unconscious in the flotsam. He blinked as the tears 
  overflowed. He had failed. That didn't happen very often. He had rescued 
  people every day for the past three years, but the small handful of souls he'd 
  lost would ever haunt him. He hadn't known Nick, hadn't even liked him, but he 
  would mourn him with the rest. 
  At the pier he had to carry the girls up one at a time. They seemed helpless. 
  He felt lightheaded and dizzy, and a thin trickle of blood oozed down his 
  face. Still, they were probably in shock, and so he excused them. He carried 
  them to his minivan and slammed the door. Getting in the driver's seat, he 
  touched his forehead. What should he do with them? Hand them over to the 
  police, perhaps. Already he could hear the sirens in the distance. 
  One bundle moved. A young blonde woman emerged, but her face was red. It was 
  not the red of tears or hysterics, but of severe burns. "You must go out and 
  search for him!" she pleaded. "He is weak. He cannot survive the sun!" 
  "You are injured. I will take you to a hospital," Gary said softly. 
  "No! I will heal. But you've got to find Nick! Please, go look for him!" 
  The other face emerged, equally burned. The woman looked sad but not 
  hysterical. "Nick still lives, Urs," she said. "I feel it. We must seek 
  shelter now before the police arrive." 
  "We should stay and talk to them," Gary said, although facing the police was 
  never a pleasant task. He'd been arrested on many occasions as a prime suspect 
  in the very crimes he tried to prevent. 
  "We cannot," the second woman, and the younger of the two, said firmly. "I 
  assure you, we have done nothing wrong. But you must take us somewhere safe. 
  Then I beg you to return and search for my brother." 
  Gary felt a compulsion to do as she asked. He tried to shake his head clear of 
  cobwebs and was instantly sorry. The throbbing was so intense that he blinked 
  back tears. Shifting into gear, he pulled away from the watery scene of death 
  and destruction. "I guess I can take you to my place," he muttered under his 
  breath. "I don't know why they call it a bachelors apartment. 'Home for 
  Strays' is more accurate." 



  Nick smelled the chemicals an instant before the explosion. A violent force 
  threw him into the exploding bulkhead of the ship like dry leaves before a 
  hurricane. He heard Vachon's cry of alarm briefly, then nothing. Grateful that 
  they had shared the blood kiss recently, Nick reached out to sense the young 
  Spaniard. Vachon was still alive, although he wouldn't be for long. He was 
  unconscious, floating on a piece of the deck, the sun burning his naked back. 
  Cold water sucked at his clothes. The weight of wet things was pulling him 
  down. He couldn't breathe- he must have injured a rib and it was pressing on 
  his lungs. Nick forced himself to calm down, knowing breathing was unnecessary 
  unless he needed to draw breath to speak. Vachon needed him right now. He 
  kicked off his boots now filling with cold lake water and began to swim 
  towards the younger vampire. Sunlight burned his face and hands, its intense 
  rays magnified as it reflected off the water's surface. Focusing beyond the 
  pain, he reached out for the Spaniard. Although he did not feel himself move, 
  suddenly Vachon was in his hands. 
  Nick grabbed the unconscious form and dove under the water. Away from the 
  source of light, driven by an instinct for survival that was stronger than 
  mere sight, Nick knew which direction to go. Down, down, and deeper still. The 
  harbor was deep here. It brought back painful memories of the night he had 
  drowned in the Humbar River, eight months ago, on the last night he had been 
  able to see. This was different, though. He was not chained to cement blocks, 
  bleeding from a nearly mortal blow to the head. He was free to move about. He 
  could find the deepest part of the water and the shadows cast by the boats 
  still moored above. He and Vachon would not suffer any further damage >from the 
  sun. 
  He had to keep Vachon from inhaling, though, which would fill his lungs with 
  cold water and make his stay here far more miserable. Nick touched Vachon with 
  fingers now numb from cold. He could not speak, but he maintained the link he 
  shared with his young friend. Vachon had a few wooden splinters embedded in 
  his chest and arms. Nick found them and gently pulled each one free, licking 
  tenderly at the few drops of blood that briefly oozed from each small wound 
  before the cold water slowed their escape. The small offering was not enough 
  to heal Nick, nor to ease his growing hunger, but it did help to keep him 
  awake and focused on Vachon. He could not sleep today. He must keep vigil, and 
  keep moving, as the shadows above danced with the ever-changing position of 
  the sun. 
  On his fingers moved, exploring the damaged flesh. Vachon's back was a raw 
  open wound, the layers of skin completely burned away. In a mortal, or even an 
  infant vampire, the wound would be fatal. Vachon was healthy; Nick was not 
  worried for him, but he knew the pain would be excruciating when the Spaniard 
  awoke. 
  *Sleep, my friend, * Nick commanded him, with a power he was only beginning to 
  acknowledge as real. *You will sleep all day and I will protect you. You will 
  not feel pain. * 
  He felt Vachon's unconscious form relax somewhat into his embrace. Nick 
  clutched him tightly and willed the sun to set early that day. 
  ***** 
  "I failed, Marissa," Gary confessed. He sounded pathetic, Tracy thought. She 
  hurt all over and she needed to sleep, but she felt a sense of urgency keeping 
  her up. Urs seemed to feel no such need, as she slept soundly on the couch 
  beneath the blanket. 
  Marissa was a pretty woman, early thirties maybe, with dark skin and wide-set 
  eyes of the warmest shade of brown. Now those eyes were weeping, as she and 
  Gary both believed Nick was dead. 
  "He's okay," Tracy told them again. "He is not dead. I would know it if he 
  were." 
  Gary gave her a disbelieving look, but he made no comment. 
  "Look, I'm linked to him somehow. I can't explain. I don't suppose you've ever 
  had to face something so unbelievable that you struggled to make sense of your 
  altered reality, but it's true." 
  Gary gave an odd, humorless laugh. 
  Marissa sank into a chair. Gary poured her a cup of coffee which she wrapped 
  her fingers around, but made no effort to drink from it. 
  "Okay, try this. I knew when Nick first realized that his friend, Lucius Snow, 
  was dead. I felt his wave of grief profoundly, even though I was across town 
  in the museum." 
  Gary didn't seem impressed, but Marissa was listening. 
  "And I knew when he was hurt." 
  Gary stared at her. "Hurt how?" 
  Tracy patted her belly, just below the stomach. "Here. Two nights ago. I felt 
  sharp pain, like a knife or something." 
  Gary sank down onto a chair and seemed to have forgotten how to breathe. 
  "He was stabbed," Marissa confessed. "Some street kids mugged us, and his dog 
  ran away." 
  Tracy nodded. She had known. It infuriated her that Nick hadn't called them 
  for help. She knew that he had to prove something to himself, like he was 
  still a man or something, but it was just so much macho male ego that it 
  really pissed her off. She hadn't told Vachon or Urs about Nick's pain, 
  claiming that perhaps the excitement had caused her sudden cramps. If Nick 
  wanted to suffer alone, then who was she to intervene? 
  But this was different. She felt Nick clearly, which meant he was awake and he 
  was not shutting her out. He was not breathing and he was getting very, very 
  cold. She knew he was below the water. And she couldn't sense Vachon at all. 
  She swiped away a blood-red tear before Gary could come out of his near shock 
  and notice. 
  "It's that damn paper, Marissa," he growled under his breath, unaware that 
  Tracy's perfect hearing could detect every word. Tracy still huddled under a 
  quilt, unwilling to let Gary see the severity of her burns. Since she seemed 
  alert and coherent, neither mortal suspected just how serious they were. 
  "First the dog story. The paper said the kids were attacked by a crazed beast 
  with eyes that glowed. Then this morning, tomorrow's headlines, a gang of kids 
  claimed to set this bomb to destroy vampires. I went there, not expecting to 
  find your new boyfriend, but to save some poor sucker from a lynch mob that'd 
  been watching too much "Outer Limits". Only-" 
  "Nick is not my boyfriend, Gary. He's a good man and a new friend. Nothing 
  more," Marissa interrupted. 
  "Only," Gary continued, ignoring her, "I find Nick on this boat, with three 
  others, and they're like dead already. I could not wake them up. Then, they 
  wouldn't just leave sensibly. I had to cover the girls in blankets, and they 
  were burning-" 
  "From the bomb?" 
  "No! The girls were burning even before the bomb. And the other one and Nick 
  were still on the boat. I couldn't see either of them." 
  Marissa sniffed and wiped at her tears. Speaking a little louder, she asked 
  Tracy, "You say your brother is still alive?" 
  "Yes." 
  "Then I believe you. What can we do?" 
  Tracy drew in a breath. "Nothing for now. I'm going back there tonight. I'll 
  find him then." 
  Gary rose. "I have to go, Marissa," he whispered. "There's a kid who gets his 
  shoelaces stuck in an escalator and another heart attack, and a young girl's 
  going to abandon her newborn." 
  "Go," Marissa said. "I'll take care of things here." 
  Tracy shook her head as she tried to sleep. Gary reminded her of her brother, 
  out to save the world or something. Had Freud ever discussed the "King Arthur" 
  complex? Or would it be named "Sir Lancelot?" If she were to label this 
  compulsion, she would name it the "Nick Knight Disorder". She smiled to 
  herself as she let sleep steal over her. 
  Late in the afternoon hunger woke both Tracy and Urs. Urs insisted on 
  straightening up Gary's apartment first, putting away all the blankets and 
  doing up his dishes for him as a sign of her appreciation. Tracy reluctantly 
  helped, but hunger made her irritable. 
  Once in the bar, they hovered in the far corner away from the windows as the 
  sun had not yet set. Urs compelled two young men to join them in the secluded 
  booth, and she and Tracy were able to take the edge off their appetite. 
  Drinking fresh, hot blood was still a new experience for the infant, and Tracy 
  nearly drained him. When he finally staggered to his feet, Marissa mistook him 
  for a drunk. She called him a cab and sent him home. 
  Finally, just as the sky was darkening enough for Tracy, the two vampires 
  slipped out of the bar unnoticed and flew to the pier. 
  The area was cordoned off with yellow tape, but the daily news had reported 
  very little of the explosion. No bodies had been found, and until the owners 
  could be notified, little else had been released. Tracy walked to the water's 
  edge and reached out for Nick. Now, she could feel nothing. Nick was 
  unconscious. 
  ***** 
  As the sun set, Nick sensed his trial was nearly over. He was bone-weary and 
  thoroughly chilled. His side was hurting as he was jostled about by the 
  water's currents. Hunger tore at him. 
  What should he do about Vachon? His severe injuries had mostly healed. Nick 
  felt the smooth new flesh over his back and almost envied him. Nick's ribs had 
  not yet begun to mend. But, when Vachon awoke, he would be ravenous, almost as 
  first hunger. Any mortal in the area would be at risk. Nick feared the pier 
  could be crowded with people - police, investigators, innocent bystanders... 
  Nick could not put them in danger. The only way to protect them would be to 
  feed Vachon himself, now, before rising. Only, the beast within would drive 
  the Spaniard, not courtesy. He would undoubtedly take too much. Nick would 
  survive, but he would lose consciousness. He hesitated. It did seem to be the 
  best option. 
  Nick concentrated on all that had happened today, as he brought the Spaniard 
  out of the hypnotic compulsion under which he'd placed him. He felt life 
  return to the undead body, felt a moment of pain, then consuming hunger. Nick 
  craned his neck to offer himself to Vachon. Twin fangs pierced him. He felt 
  his essence being viciously drained and Nick smiled. *It is all right, my 
  friend,* he thought, forgiving him before Vachon was even aware enough to feel 
  guilt. Then Nick passed out. 
  Vachon awoke. Nick's blood was filling him, cold water surrounded him. For 
  only a moment was he confused, before the knowledge of the blood assailed him. 
  Withdrawing his fangs, he leaped upward, bringing them both to the water's 
  surface before he gasped, bringing in huge mouthfuls of fresh night air. His 
  lungs were sore from the long disuse and he coughed, surprised that he had 
  inhaled no water. He looked at the unconscious vampire. Nick's throat was 
  bleeding profusely. Vachon held him close as he sprang into the air and flew 
  to shore. 
  Tracy shouted excitedly, but her enthusiasm quickly turned to concern. "What's 
  wrong with Nick?" 
  "I uh, drained him," he muttered. 
  Tracy prepared to give him a thorough thrashing with her tongue, but Vachon 
  stopped her with a gesture. "I know. You don't even need to say it. This was 
  Nick's wish, to protect his mortal friends. Now, where should we go?" 
  "Back to Gary's, I guess. Follow me." 
  Tracy leaped into the air, Urs and Vachon close behind. She flew swiftly to 
  McGinty's bar, landing on the fire escape just outside the second story 
  apartment. She had left the door unlocked earlier that afternoon, and now she 
  held it open for Vachon. 
  He laid Nick on the only bed and stepped back. The girls could do their 
  hovering, they didn't need his help. 
  Urs licked at the neck wounds, but they continued to bleed. Tracy towel-dried 
  his hair and face, calling to him, trying to awaken him. 
  "What can we do? How do we wake him?" 
  Vachon shuddered, not quite a hundred percent yet himself. "I don't know. Wait 
  and see?" 
  The door opened, and the mortal owner entered. He stared at Nick with wide 
  eyes. "You were right. You did find him. He doesn't look so good though." 
  Tracy swallowed past her nervousness. "I think he'll be better after a rest." 
  Gary touched Nick's hand, so still and cold. A look of fear came to his face. 
  "I'm calling a doctor," he stated. 
  Tracy started to object, but Gary brushed her concerns aside. "He's the same 
  doctor who treated him two nights ago." 
  Gary picked up the business card the European doctor had given Nick and dialed 
  the private cellphone number. He started to tell him Nick's symptoms, but as 
  soon as the doctor heard who the patient was, he interrupted, saying he would 
  come right away. Gary stared at the phone, confused. What power did this 
  stranger have, that he held the police force and the hospital in the palm of 
  his hand? 
  Urs pulled off Nick's wet clothes and spread the blankets over him. Tracy 
  pressed cotton balls against his neck. His blood had almost ceased to flow, 
  but she worried that it was only because he had so little left. His face 
  looked sunken, the cheeks hollow and his bones were too prominent. The two 
  broken ribs were painfully obvious even to her untrained eye. 
  Gary answered the door. He stepped back and gestured to the doctor. "He's in 
  there." 
  Luka smiled. "Thank you," he said politely. 
  Gary followed him into the bedroom, but Vachon blocked him. "You are hungry," 
  he told the mortal. "Go get yourself a hamburger." 
  Blankly, Gary turned and left. 
  "That was mean," Tracy chided. 
  Vachon shrugged. "I didn't tell him to get lost or anything. Besides, the food 
  will do him good." 
  "Am I to guess that you are all close, personal friends of Nick's?" Luka put 
  just enough emphasis on the word personal to imply that he knew they were 
  vampires. Vachon nodded. 
  The doctor asked them to explain how Nick had become injured then, as he 
  prepared to give Nick blood, feeding the packet directly into his stomach. He 
  sighed and shook his head. "I don't envy you at all, eternal healing powers 
  just sounds like eternal suffering to me. I know that if I am ever truly 
  injured, it will not last long." 
  Nick coughed once, weakly, as he struggled back to consciousness. Luka stared 
  at the misplaced ribs. "How am I to set these, Nick? I know I can't do surgery 
  on you." 
  Nick could not breathe, and so he could not speak. He made a gasping, choking 
  sound, wincing painfully with the effort. Giving up, he concentrated, sending 
  his message to Vachon. 
  The Spaniard paled visibly. "He wants you to just push and prod, shove them 
  back where they belong." 
  Luka shook his head sadly. "That will be painful. Is there anything I can do 
  to ease your discomfort first?" 
  Nick weakly shook his head. Only LaCroix could hypnotize him. Tracy hadn't 
  perfected her skills and most vampires used the eyes of the victim to capture 
  him. Nick's sightlessness rendered him resistant to compulsion. 
  "Forgive me," Luka said. 
  Luka was hesitant at first, but then he kneaded at Nick's chest, pulling the 
  fractured bones back into place. Nick struggled against him, tears of blood 
  staining his face. Vachon shoved his forearm in Nick's mouth, preventing him 
  from crying out to terrify the mortals downstairs, and also saving the 
  doctor's life. Nick bit down on him hard. 
  As quickly as he could, Luka taped Nick's chest, binding the ribs so they 
  could heal. "This seems like such a barbaric way to practice medicine." 
  Vachon nodded. "We don't often need a doctor. Our methods are rather 
  medieval." 
  Carefully, Vachon pulled his arm from Nick's teeth. They would both need lots 
  of blood tonight, but Nick needed the blood of a vampire. The girls would have 
  to help. Vachon was too weary to offer himself. 
  The doctor gave Nick one more unit of blood before packing up his bag. He 
  looked at Vachon. "Is someone hunting him?" 
  "Why would you say that?" he asked blankly. 
  Luka pulled a newspaper clipping from his pocket. "I was going to speak to him 
  about this," he said. 
  Tracy peered over Vachon's shoulder. "Mad Dog Attacks Youth" was the headline. 
  Below, the smaller print quoted the boy's claims that the dog's eyes had 
  glowed. "Could that be Perry?" she asked. 
  Vachon handed the article back. "Thanks. I'll take care of it." 
  Luka nodded. "If you need anything else..." 
  "Why?" Urs asked. She was soft-spoken, but there was a threatening 
  undercurrent in her demand. Luka looked startled, clearing his throat 
  nervously. 
  "A vampire once saved my life," he said quietly. Although he didn't explain, 
  all could see the pain and suffering he endured in silence. 
  Urs seemed satisfied. She opened the door for him and gave him an earnest 
  smile. "Don't take this personally, doctor. But I hope I won't see you again 
  before we leave." 
  Luka returned her smile. "Good night." 
    
    
  Chapter seven: 
  Nick awoke, fighting back the feelings of disorientation. He was sandwiched 
  between Urs and Tracy, but no where could he sense his dog. He missed Perry. 
  The carouche tended to be bossy and interfering, but Nick knew he had only his 
  best interests at heart, and he nicer about his domineering ways than LaCroix. 
  Tonight, he would search for him again. 
  "Morning, Bro," Tracy said. 
  Nick kissed her forehead. "Morning. Although, I think it's afternoon." 
  "You irresponsible, self-centered, arrogant lout," Tracy scolded harshly. 
  Urs awoke and wiped sleepy eyes. "Ditto," she said. 
  "I did what had to be done," Nick said defensively. "Everyone's all right, 
  aren't they?" 
  "Gary's fine. Marissa's fine. But have you called LaCroix yet? He's sure to 
  have heard about the boat accident by now. The police called Gary looking for 
  you. 
  Nick winced as he sat up. The ribs would be sore the rest of the day, most 
  likely. He was tired of pain. To think, in his younger days, that he could go 
  for months, years at a time, and not suffer anything except whatever LaCroix 
  gave to him. If being mortal meant suffering like this, he wanted no part of 
  it. 
  "I'll call him. After a shower. Will you show me where it is?" 
  Tracy forgave him at once. He looked so lost and confused, and she knew how 
  much his disability wounded his pride. She helped him to the bathroom, and 
  even stayed to shower with him. Later, when they joined the others in Gary's 
  living area, Vachon poured them each a full glass. 
  "I found the local supply house," he explained. 
  Nick sipped at it. "We're going after Perry tonight," he stated. 
  "Fine. We're with you. After you call LaCroix." 
  Nick dialed and tried to get comfortable. He hoped LaCroix was too busy to be 
  closely tuned his needs. If his master suspected the depth of his pain, the 
  ancient would be on the first plane to Chicago. 
  The phone rang four times before the answering machine picked up. Nick felt a 
  wave of relief. "Hello, LaCroix," he began. "Everything's fine. Just called to 
  let you know, since you may have heard about the boat by now. It's destroyed. 
  Tracy says "hi", and I'll let you know when we're coming home as soon as I 
  work out about the boat. Bye." 
  "Lucky shit," Tracy snapped, slapping him playfully. Nick just grinned. 
    
    
  Chapter eight: 
  Natalie stared through another glass. It was the window of the neonatal wing 
  of Toronto General. There were seven babies in the nursery right now, most 
  were sleeping. One was starting to fuss, and the duty nurse was busy changing 
  the diapers of another. Some were alert, their tiny hands waving 
  uncontrollably as they stared at their new environment. 
  The duty nurse recognized her. "Would you like to come in, Dr. Lambert?" 
  Nat blushed, shrugging it off, but the nurse beckoned to her. "Scrub up and 
  put on a gown. Then you could hold this one and give her a bottle, while I 
  take care of Boy Isaacs." 
  "Boy Isaacs?" Nat went to the sink, feeling comfortable in the familiar 
  routine. 
  "They had picked out girls names, and they don't know what to call him. Since 
  they hadn't seen a peter in the ultrasound, they weren't expecting him." 
  "That's terrible," Nat said. "Poor little guy." 
  The duty nurse laughed. "Not really. It happens all the time. They don't have 
  to pick out a name until they are discharged, and even then some couples need 
  more time. Nothing's official until we file the birth certificates." 
  Nat put on a flimsy yellow disposable gown, staring at the tiny baby in the 
  nurse's hands. "I don't know how to do this," she said, panicking. 
  The nurse told her to sit in the rocking chair. Then she placed the bundle in 
  a pink receiving blanket in her arms. "Tip the bottle up so that no air gets 
  into the nipple. That's about all there is to know right now." 
  Nat held the small glass bottle nervously. The baby took the nipple and 
  started to suck hungrily. Nat relaxed a bit. Maybe it wasn't so hard after 
  all. 
  The duty nurse hummed cheerfully as she changed Boy Isaacs and propped him 
  over one shoulder, patting his back and swaying from side to side. 
  "Could he be hungry, too?" Nat asked. 
  "Hm. Maybe. I'll bring him in to his mother soon. She's breastfeeding him. But 
  she just fell asleep a bit ago, and she needs her rest, too." 
  When the bottle was half-gone, the baby spit out the nipple. She squirmed in 
  Nat's arms. The nurse covered Nat's shoulder with a thick towel. "Now, hold 
  her like this and pat her back," she instructed. Nat was rewarded with a foul 
  smell when the baby burped, spitting some of the formula onto the towel. The 
  nurse took the towel back. "Now you can just rock her. Talk to her. She's been 
  awake for a while, she'll probably go back to sleep soon." 
  The nurse left the nursery then, walking the hallway with the crying infant. 
  Nat leaned back in the chair and started to rock it. She had distant memories 
  of being rocked by her daddy. He had been kind and loving. And he used to sing 
  to her, too. He had a pleasant, deep voice, and she felt so safe in his arms. 
  She had been only six when the accident took her parents away and she went to 
  live with Nana. She had never been rocked again. 
  The words to the lullaby came back to her all at once. Nat felt a lump in her 
  throat at the memory of her father. Staring into the infant's face, the blue 
  eyes and soft innocence, she began to sing, softly at first. 
  "Hush, little baby, don't say a word.
  Papa's going to buy you a mocking bird.
  If that mocking bird won't sing,
  Papa's going to buy you a diamond ring."
  The words sounded silly now. As a little girl, she hadn't really noticed the 
  foolish implication that love and comfort could be bought. It was just a 
  pretty melody, and it had made her feel loved. She continued through all the 
  verses, and when she reached the end, the little girl was sleeping peacefully. 

  The nurse had not yet returned. Nat was afraid to move, afraid of breaking the 
  newborn. So she remained, rocking gently, and she whispered her thoughts 
  aloud. 
  "Being a mother means putting your needs above mine, little one. But it is my 
  needs that are making me consider whether to have a little one in the first 
  place. What kind of life would you have with me? When I am converted, I will 
  live in the dark. I cannot volunteer in your classroom. Or go to 
  parent-teacher conferences unless they are late at night. I might miss many 
  concerts, graduations, awards ceremonies, soccer games... hell, if you were 
  ever injured in the day, I couldn't even take you to the doctor. 
  "I could hire tutors, private nurses, chauffeurs, nannies, an entire army of 
  assistants to provide for you. And I would love you, darling. I know that. 
  "But, would you forgive me? You would never fit in with your playmates. They 
  might fear your parents. LaCroix, certainly. You might fear him yourself. Nick 
  would be good with you, that I have no doubt. And Tracy. She used to be a Big 
  Sister, herself. Still, I can't imagine that living with them would be easy 
  for you. I would be as bad as the song... trying to buy your happiness." 
  Large tears spilled down her cheeks. Nat blinked them away but more came to 
  take their place. Natalie rocked and cried, and came to a decision. 
  ****** 
  For two nights they searched fruitlessly. The police were a constant problem, 
  once they had linked the boat explosion and the mugging both to Nick. They 
  wanted to put a body guard on him. They even called Toronto PD to find out if 
  the perpetrator could have come down from there, and if Nick had had any 
  similar difficulties before. Reese then called Nick, demanding to know the 
  full story. Nick sighed, rubbing at his forehead. This was the vacation from 
  Hell, he thought, with sudden empathy for Natalie and what she had endured 
  last month when she had tried to take a cruise to the Bahamas. 
  Gary continued to be a few cards short of a full deck. He was forever dashing 
  off somewhere, giving the lamest excuses. Marissa patiently accepted 
  everything he said. Nick liked him less and less, and worried just how deep 
  ran Marissa's relationship with him. 
  Nick's ribs healed though, and his knife wound was no more than a memory. The 
  insurance settled with him about the boat, and he went to a boatyard to see 
  about replacing it. Vachon was uncomfortable. The new boats were nearly double 
  what they had paid for Freedom's Fancy, and Nick wanted to look at something 
  even bigger. 
  The salesman, perhaps sensing the largest commission of the year, took them in 
  a limo to the marina where his best boats were moored. He walked them through 
  a forty-foot yacht. Vachon stared, fairly drooling at the lush appointments. 
  It boasted two staterooms, a larger kitchen and dining area, two heads with 
  showers, carpeted throughout, and best of all, a full entertainment center and 
  sound system and wide-screen TV. When he saw the built-in wet bar and wine 
  rack, Vachon was ready to sell his soul for the down-payment. 
  "How much does this cost," he asked Nick quietly. Nick ignored him, as he 
  moved slowly through the boat, touching everything silently. Vachon felt sick 
  inside. He hurt for his friend. If only there was something he could do! 
  Natalie hadn't yet figured out the cure. What if she had help? That doctor 
  Luka seemed like a smart guy... Vachon decided then to have a talk with him at 
  the first opportunity. 
  The salesman continued to talk about the diesel engine's cruise speed and the 
  water capacity and other pertinent facts, but all Vachon could see was the 
  warm golden polish of the fine woods, the black glass and polished brass light 
  fixtures, the soft, plush carpet that seemed to swallow his feet clear up to 
  the ankles, and he wondered if perhaps he should have showered or something 
  before coming on board. This was by far the finest living accommodations he 
  had ever seen this close in five hundred years. 
  "Nick, I can't afford this. If you're really set on owning this boat, you'll 
  have to get yourself another partner." 
  Nick smiled. Turning to the salesman, he said in that princely tone that 
  humbled others into submission. "If I might have a moment in private?" 
  The salesman nodded obsequiously. "Yes, of course, sir. I'll just wait on 
  deck." 
  Nick's wide smile was warm. Vachon melted. At that moment he would have done 
  anything for him. "I don't want another partner," Nick said. "We're in this 
  together. But a bigger boat does offer more protection from the sun, and we 
  could even live on this one. At least part of the year. It sleeps six, so 
  LaCroix and Nat might join us on occasion." 
  Vachon stared at the sleeper-sofa, and wondered which vampire would end up 
  there. That it was more comfortable than anything he'd slept on before didn't 
  matter... he just could not see LaCroix on it. 
  "Now, I can afford this-" 
  "I'm not your boy toy, Nick. You are not buying me expensive gifts," Vachon 
  snapped. 
  "I have never thought of you in that way," Nick said softly. Vachon regretted 
  his angry words as a shadow crossed over Nick's happiness. "We've got the 
  insurance money, and I thought I could pay enough of a down-payment to bring 
  our monthly bill down to what it has been. Then, when it is paid off, you can 
  pay me back for your half of whatever is left." 
  "Nick, we had a fifteen-year note! You'd wait fifteen years before I even 
  start to repay you? At what interest rate?" 
  "No interest." Interest rates were ungodly, and even forbidden in the Good 
  Book he once lived buy. "I won't partake in usury." 
  Vachon thought about it more seriously. So what if it took him a hundred years 
  to pay it off? It wasn't like he wasn't going to be around that long. Suddenly 
  the boat was looking a lot more desirable. He pulled a bottle of Merlot from 
  the wine rack, imagining it was instead one of LaCroix's special reserve. "I 
  think the girls would love this place," he said hesitantly. 
  "But how do you feel about it?" 
  Nick looked hopeful then. Vachon laughed at the absurdity. He held the power 
  to make Nick happy, and it wasn't going to cost him a thing... at least, not 
  for the first fifteen years. All he had to do was tell him how great the boat 
  was! And that he would agree to the terms. "I love the boat, Nick," he said 
  honestly. 
  Nick grinned broadly. "Mr. Danson," he called in a loud, authoritative voice. 
  The salesman immediately hurried to his call. "Yes sir?" 
  "We'll take it." 
  Vachon watched the look of joy and relief on the salesman's face, but credited 
  him for his professional manner. "Very good, sir. Very good! I'll draw up the 
  papers immediately, if you wish." 
  Nick placed a phone call directly to his banker and made arrangements to have 
  a sum of $130,000 in U.S. funds, half the cost of the boat, transferred to the 
  marina electronically. Before long, two sets of keys were placed in their 
  eager hands. 
  "It was a pleasure doing business with you," the salesman said cheerfully. 
  "Please consider Lakeshore Marina for all your future needs." 
  Nick held Vachon's arm as they walked back to McGinty's. Vachon noted his 
  friend's pallor, and wondered if the night had been too much for him. Perhaps 
  if Nick went back to take a nap, then he could seek out that doctor? He walked 
  on in silence, slowing his pace. 
  "I don't want to move onto her yet," Nick said, thinking about their new boat. 

  "Why not?" It was a hellova lot nicer than the floor of Gary's apartment. 
  "Because whoever tried to kill us before is still at large. They will try 
  again." 
  "I hadn't thought of that." 
  "Gary knows something, too. I don't think he did it, but he's not being 
  completely forthcoming. Maybe instead of looking for Perry, we should be 
  tailing him." 
  "Nick, do you really think we'll find him? Perry? What if... what if he's 
  gone?" 
  Nick's grip on his arm tightened almost painfully. "He's still alive," he said 
  quietly. "I think he's hurt, maybe caged. I sense him occasionally, but not 
  well." 
  "Nick, how can you sense a carouche? You and he don't, you know..." 
  "I haven't fed from him, no," Nick said, not taking offence at Vachon's 
  disgusting suggestion. "But he bites me on occasion. I have always been able 
  to sense him, ever since I became blind. I also sense others much clearer. I 
  guess it's true that when one sense is taken from you, the others become 
  stronger to compensate." 
  Vachon wished Nick could become stronger as well. The elder vampire seemed 
  unsteady, almost dead asleep on his feet. Vachon tugged him into a dark alley. 
  He leaned closer to Nick's throat, his voice low and husky. "Perhaps we should 
  exchange blood in a pact for the new boat," he whispered. 
  Nick's fangs scraped against his throat, one hand tangling in the long, black 
  hair to imprison him. Vachon craned his neck, offering himself to the elder 
  and waited for the bite. He sighed as Nick claimed him. A drunk staggered into 
  their alley, but Vachon sent him to sleep. He let Nick drink as much as he 
  dared before returning the bite. The blood revived Nick somewhat. They walked 
  the rest of the way in companionable silence; Nick went to lie down as soon as 
  he reached Gary's apartment. 
  ***** 
  LaCroix watched from the rooftop as his lover approached the nightclub again. 
  She touched the doorknob to his private entrance, hesitated, released it, then 
  turned and walked around the block, only to run through the ritual again. He 
  smiled sardonically, grateful to discover that she was rattled by their 
  separation. 
  She hadn't been to his bed in over a week. Ever since she returned from 
  Hawaii, all she wanted to talk about was having a baby. LaCroix truly did not 
  want this. After the initial shock wore off, he tried to consider it. Mortal 
  offspring did grow relatively fast. No matter how annoying, it would mature 
  and leave home. Could he endure this for her? 
  It might be less disagreeable if she would consider adopting one. Then they 
  could scour the orphanages all over the world to select the least annoying 
  specimen available. But Natalie rejected that suggestion immediately. It 
  seemed that being pregnant, fat, irritable and awkward was part of the deal. 
  LaCroix had avoided Selene all through her trial, as she had been completely 
  unbearable then. 
  LaCroix had loved the child Nicholas had been. But that had been a rare love, 
  something so alien to him, and he knew he did not want to go through that 
  again. If she insisted on this child, then she would have to go through it 
  alone. He would wipe her memories of him, but if she wished, he would return 
  when her child was grown, and try to resume their relationship. His heart was 
  sore at the thought, but it was as much of a compromise as he could honestly 
  make. 
  Once again Natalie touched the door. This time, she pulled it open and 
  disappeared inside. He smiled wistfully. No matter what was decided, this 
  would end tonight. He'd put up with her indecision long enough. He returned to 
  the apartment and waited for her. 
  Natalie looked lovely. Her wide-set eyes were misty with unshed tears, and she 
  smiled broadly. "Lucien! I've missed you," she whispered. 
  He held his arms wide, an unspoken invitation. They would meet calmly to 
  discuss this. No more shouting and accusations. Natalie stepped into his 
  embrace and he kissed her passionately. 
  "I'm so sorry, Lucien," she whispered. "This must be so hard for you to 
  understand. I'm sorry." 
  "Sh-sh," he whispered. "Come, we shall discuss this in the hot tub." 
  "Why?" She sounded startled. 
  "Because, I believe it is a good place for a stressful conversation. You 
  cannot throw anything but water, and I'll have you at a naked disadvantage." 
  Natalie blushed and smiled shyly. "I am not going to throw anything." 
  He chuckled. "Well, I might. Come." 
  Slowly, he removed her blouse and trousers, her pantyhose and the clip in her 
  hair. Just as slowly, she tugged his clothing free. Then, admiring one 
  another, they stepped into the water. 
  LaCroix wanted to tell her of his compromise, but he held back. Hopefully, she 
  would have just given up this foolishness entirely. She was trying to explain 
  her decision then, but it wasn't making any sense. 
  "I felt so awkward in the daycare," she said, as she told him about her 
  volunteer work. "But in the nursery, I felt something. That tiny, helpless 
  infant was so dependent on me. For everything. And it would need me for at 
  least twenty years, maybe more. That's a scary thought. I know I could love 
  it, and learn to take care of it, but I wondered if I loved it enough. To put 
  it's needs above my own, and if so, how could I possibly bring a child into 
  this home? Expose that infant to things no mortal was meant to know?" 
  LaCroix felt a growing annoyance. "Get to the point, my dear," he warned. 
  Natalie leaned over to reach into the pocket of her pants. She pulled out a 
  small photograph, somewhat dog-eared. It was of a small girl with large sad 
  eyes, probably of Mexican or South American decent. She had limp, black hair 
  and was clothed in rags. 
  "What is this!" 
  Natalie started at his angry tone, but she continued calmly. "This is 
  Esperanza. My adopted daughter." 
  LaCroix's fangs exploded with his anger. "But this was something we should 
  have considered together! Why this one! What if she walks in her sleep or wets 
  the bed? I cannot have her here!" He started to get out of the tub, but 
  Natalie grasped a sensitive spot. 
  "Sit down, love. We are going to talk tonight, not yell." 
  LaCroix sank down heavily, splashing water over the edge. 
  "She will never come here." 
  "Are you leaving, then?" The words were hard to choke out. 
  "No." 
  "I don't understand." 
  Natalie heaved a sigh, then she forced a smile. "Lucien. It is selfish of me 
  to want a child." 
  He disagreed. Many people found a need for procreation, as he had once. But, 
  should he argue the point? 
  "Once I considered the child's life, I knew that I couldn't go through with 
  it. Raising a mortal son or daughter among vampires would not be a good home 
  life, and bringing one up alone wouldn't be right either. I know there are 
  lots of single parents, and some may even be very good, but I would miss you 
  too much." 
  "Then what is this," he demanded, gesturing to the photo again. 
  She smiled. "I found her in a magazine, one of those "Save the Children" 
  programs. She has a home in Guatemala, but her parents are very poor. The 
  money I send every month will help her entire family, buying clothes, better 
  food, education. I will probably never meet her. I can give her money, and her 
  parents can meet her other needs. This is how I can feel like I've contributed 
  something. And, it is enough. For me." 
  LaCroix stared, momentarily speechless. He looked again at the little girl's 
  image, eyes that were too sad for one so young. "What is her name," he 
  whispered. 
  "Esperanza." 
  Hope. He hugged Natalie tightly. "I am... very proud of you, my dear." 
  Natalie blushed. She leaned over the tub to let the photograph fall back on 
  top of her pants. "I don't feel so proud." 
  "I do. While I do not want a child, I can certainly understand how difficult 
  this decision was for you. And I am pleased with your decision." 
  Natalie moved to straddle his lap. "I am glad you approve," she said. She 
  kissed him lightly, stroking his ear with a finger. The yellow lights spread 
  through his ice-blue eyes, and his fang tips emerged again. 
  "I would like it if you would share her letters with me, when they come." 
  Natalie smiled, heedless of the tears that fell. "Thank you," she whispered. 
    
    
  Chapter nine: 
  Gary glared at the cat sitting outside his apartment door. "You again," he 
  snapped. "You can't give me one lousy break?" 
  "Meow," the cat snapped back. He stood, shaking his feet as though the 
  newspaper's ink had still been damp. Disdainfully he slipped inside the 
  cramped apartment, cluttered with vampires and tastelessly decorated with the 
  human bachelor's many belongings. He leaped onto the counter and waited for 
  the human to set out fresh milk and food. It had only taken a few years, but 
  this one was very nearly trained. 
  Gary tucked the paper under his arm, not yet ready to face the news. Eyes 
  still more closed than opened, he fed the cat and grabbed a mug of coffee 
  himself. How much longer would his unwelcome guests be staying, he wondered. 
  They were a nuisance. They slept all day, were up all hours of the night, 
  never seemed to eat, and seemed to be cursed with the unfortunate luck to 
  always be in need of saving. What was it with these guys? And worse, although 
  Gary was knocking his brains out seven days a week to save the unfortunate of 
  Chicago, the police did not trust him, while this Nick Knight, who was 
  definitely not what he appeared to be, was almost honored among them. Life 
  just wasn't fair. 
  The frontpage headlines were unimportant, listing the current news in the race 
  for the White House. No one's life was endangered. He flipped the page, hoping 
  that just maybe he could have an easy day. 
  Such was not to be the case. A high school boy was going to become paralyzed 
  in a freak accident during football practice at 7:30pm. A teacher was going to 
  be killed in a drive-by shooting while withdrawing money from an ATM machine 
  at 7:42. A child would choke on a corndog at Danny's Diner around 8:15, and 
  then a young couple was going to be horribly mauled to death, cause unknown, 
  but a wild animal was believed to be responsible. Some days he hated his job. 
  Still, the day was going to be rather quiet until then. Perhaps he could find 
  an apartment for his guests. He'd even make the first payment just to get them 
  out of his house. Then he could spend some time in his bar. That would please 
  Marissa, who often complained that he was an invisible, inactive partner in 
  business. 
  "Did you get enough?" Gary asked. The cat stared at him, a yellow-eyed gaze of 
  wisdom and mystique. "Fine. I'll just open the window then, and you can go 
  when you please. Don't count on the Bobsey Twins from Hell for anything. 
  The cat purred, laughing to himself at Gary's description. He wasn't that far 
  from the mark. 
  "Bye, then," Gary said. He came to the cat and stroked him behind the ear, 
  scratching in a rare display of affection. "I don't tell you much, but I'm 
  kind of fond of you," Gary said. Then he left. The cat stared, slightly 
  amazed. Maybe the vampires had served a purpose after all. 
  He sniffed them, moving silently among the sleeping bodies of the undead. 
  Three were ordinary. Cat avoided vampires on the whole. They were a 
  self-centered lot. They made lousy servants, unable to rise to feed him after 
  a catnap if the sun were still out. One vampire smelled different, though. He 
  picked his way through the clutter to sense him better. 
  The golden one was powerful. Even in sleep, Cat could touch his mind. Golden 
  one was worried for his carouche, and for his friends, for the Suzuki 
  children, for his master and the master's girlfriend, and even for Marissa! 
  Cat considered that... he was fond of Marissa as well. This vampire was 
  concerned for others, vampire, carouche, mortal adult and cub alike... Cat 
  climbed up on his chest and kneaded his paws, purring loudly as he reached 
  through the psychic layers to touch him. 
  Vampire guest. 
  Nick stirred, tossing in his sleep. "Who?" he murmured. 
  A friend. Stay with Gary tonight, and you will find what you seek. 
  Resentment flooded through the vampire. He did not like Gary. Cat licked at 
  his paw and washed his face while he considered this. Gary was a little odd, 
  but he would mature nicely. 
  Gary is a friend. Do not harm him. 
  "Friend," Nick whispered. He was trying to wake himself, trying to meet the 
  one who communed with him. Cat mewed softly. This one would be interesting to 
  know better. Some day, perhaps. 
  Sleep, child. Until tonight. Task accomplished, Cat stepped onto the carpet. 
  He sniffed disdainfully. Hopefully, once the vampires found what they were 
  looking for, they would clear out of his house. He leaped soundlessly to the 
  window ledge and curled up in the bright afternoon sun for a nap. 
  Nick felt unclean as he dressed again in yesterday's clothes. He'd been so 
  busy, he had yet to replace his personal things lost in the explosion. Perhaps 
  Urs wouldn't mind shopping for him tonight. That was one chore he simply 
  couldn't stand to do since his blindness. Besides, he had work to do tonight. 
  He and Vachon would tail Gary and find out what the lies were all about. 
  Urs nipped his neck playfully. "Evening, Nicky," she whispered. 
  Nick pulled his new credit card from his pocket. "Would you be a life-saver 
  and get me some new shirts?" 
  "Gee, I don't know, Nicky. Shopping is kind of provincial and beneath my 
  status as the lover of Nicholas, child of LaCroix, one time prince and landed 
  knight..." 
  "You need to get yourself some things, as well. Don't worry about the cost, 
  the insurance will cover it all," he added quickly. 
  "We could all go," Urs suggested, knowing already that Nick would not agree to 
  that. 
  Nick shook his head. "You and Tracy go. You'll be okay for a while, just stay 
  at the larger, populated malls, and Vachon will join you later." 
  Urs shrugged. "Fine. Just tell me, do you want light black or dark, black 
  cotton or silk, and black Tee shirts or sweaters. You know, you're not easy to 
  shop for." 
  Nick gave her a winning smile, the kind that melted her right to the core. She 
  kissed him impulsively. "Stay out of trouble for a change," she admonished. 
  Tracy didn't complain about being banished to the mall. "The back-to-school 
  sales are still running," she announced. "It's a great time to find some real 
  deals. Especially on summer things." She glared at Vachon, putting more 
  meaning behind her words as she added, "take care!" 
  Vachon paced restlessly. "So, what's up, Nick? Why'd you get rid of the 
  girls?" 
  Nick smiled devilishly. "You up to a little snooping?" 
  "Sure. Who?" 
  Nick clapped him on the shoulder, urging him towards the door. "It's time to 
  find out our host's dirty little secrets. I have a hunch that when I do, I'll 
  find out what happened to Perry." 
  "You think he took him?" Vachon wasn't sure what he thought of the young 
  mortal, but Gary seemed harmless. 
  "No. But he knows more than he's telling." 
  The subject of their conversation was still in the bar when they went down. 
  Gary greeted them politely, but it didn't take eyesight to sense his 
  discomfort with their presence. He offered them each a glass of wine, refusing 
  their payment. 
  "You know, I'm real sorry about your boat," he said. "But I was thinking how 
  much more comfortable you would be in a motel, with enough beds to go around, 
  until you get squared away again. There's a really nice one not far away, 
  unless you want to get as far from this area as you can, since you've had a 
  string of bad luck here..." 
  Nick interrupted. There was only so much of Gary's peculiar manner of 
  stuttering that he could tolerate. "We won't be imposing on your generosity 
  much longer. As soon as I find my dog, we'll be returning to Toronto." 
  "Any news on that?" Gary sounded hopeful. 
  Nick shook his head. The police had drawn blanks. The youth who had first 
  spoken to the newspaper about being attacked had disappeared. The reporter 
  hadn't remembered enough details about the boy for a sketch artist to draw 
  him, and he couldn't pick the boy out of a file of previous offenders. 
  Gary checked his watch. "I uh, um, gotta run. Make yourself at home, Marissa 
  will be in later... um, later." 
  Nick grunted impatiently. They waited a few minutes, then followed Gary. Nick 
  could smell his fear and anxiety from three blocks away. Gary started running. 
  Nick gripped Vachon's arm and leaped into the air to follow him. 
  Vachon kept up a running narrative, describing what Gary was doing. "He's 
  running across a high school football field, now," he said. 
  "A football field? Why? What's going on?" 
  "Nothing unusual. Football practice, I'd say. Isn't Gary a little old to play 
  though?" 
  "Yeah." 
  "Well, he's tackling one of the players. Madre de Dios! The scoreboard just 
  fell right where that kid had been standing! If Gary hadn't come along, that 
  boy would be history." 
  Nothing was making sense. Gary had come to his aid after the boys attacked him 
  and Marissa. He was a little late to prevent trouble, but he'd still known 
  where to come, before Marissa could phone him. He'd come to rescue Nick from 
  the boat as well. And now he saved a football player. How did he know? Was he 
  clairvoyant? Nick hadn't sensed any psychic ability in him, but that didn't 
  necessarily mean it wasn't there. 
  "He's leaving," Vachon said. "And he's in a hurry." 
  They followed him next to an ATM machine. Again, Gary tackled someone to the 
  ground, but this time it was a young woman and just moments before a car sped 
  around the corner and opened fire. The ATM machine shattered under the force 
  of a semi-automatic. The car continued without slowing down. Gary got up 
  slowly, pulling the woman to her feet. "Are you okay?" he asked. 
  "She's really shook up," Vachon whispered to Nick. "Now Gary's giving her some 
  money, and a cab just pulled up. He's putting her into the cab. Now he's 
  running again." 
  Nick had suspected Gary did a lot of running. Was this what Gary did with his 
  life? 
  Gary went into a greasy little diner. Nick wondered if he was going to grab a 
  bite to eat, hungry after running all over the city, but instead, Vachon 
  described how Gary pulled a small boy from his highchair and efficiently 
  applied the Heimlich maneuver until the chunk of hotdog the toddler had been 
  choking on popped out. Gary brushed aside the words of thanks and praise, 
  slipping out the back door as quickly as possible. 
  "This is pretty weird," Vachon muttered. "How does he know?" 
  Nick shook his head. "And why does he lie about it? I wonder if Marissa knows 
  the truth, though. She seems to trust him, and his stories don't make much 
  sense." 
  They left the diner to resume the pursuit. Nick still felt a premonition that 
  if he stayed with Gary, he'd find out what happened to his dog. He had no 
  reason for this assumption... he didn't understand it himself. 
  They followed Gary to a neighborhood park and watched as Gary searched 
  nervously. The mortal's heart rate was higher than it had been all night and 
  he was perspiring. He checked his watch several times, then he even took a 
  moment to read his newspaper. Nick shook his head as Vachon related that. 
  Maybe Gary needed psychiatric help. 
  Gary went to a tree then and struggled to break off a branch. The one he 
  selected was too thick around and did not bend much. He continued, hanging on 
  it, swinging his entire body weight against it, uselessly. He started to 
  curse. 
  "Let's give him a hand," Nick said. 
  Vachon shrugged. Leading Nick, he went to the tree. Gary was not happy to see 
  them. 
  "Get out of here!" he demanded. "Go back to the bar! You're in danger here!" 
  Vachon and Nick grabbed the branch and broke it off easily, passing it to the 
  mortal. "And you know this because?" Nick asked. 
  Gary took the branch, snapping off some of the smaller twigs, hefting a weapon 
  that was six feet long and as big around as his forearm. He looked around 
  desperately. "There they are," he said. 
  Vachon followed his gaze. "A young couple, Nick," he said. "They look 
  harmless." 
  Nick became tense, his grip on Vachon's arm was painful. "There is a carouche 
  here," he whispered. 
  Vachon was ready to cheer, but Nick did not seem happy. "It's not Perry, is 
  it," he said, as realization slowly dawned. All of the mortals were in danger, 
  Gary as well. 
  Gary ran to the couple, making the woman scream, but he turned his back to 
  them and stood with the branch in his hands, poised and ready. Vachon started 
  to bring Nick to them, but the blind vampire released him and flew there on 
  his own. Moments later, the carouche leaped from the bushes. 
  The carouche had been a boy, not yet twenty. He had an unpleasant face, with 
  his beady yellow eyes and crooked fangs. His arms were scarred from a harsh 
  life of street fights. Now his clothes were filthy and hung from him in rags, 
  stained with the blood of his victims. 
  Nick recognized the carouche by scent. He was the one who had stabbed him four 
  nights ago. The one Perry had attacked in defense. Perry meant to kill him, 
  not to create a child. Nick had to finish the task. This one had been evil as 
  a mortal, and the gift of immortality had made him more so. Nick could smell 
  the blood of several mortals on him, and still he burned with blood hunger. 
  The carouche lunged for the mortals, but Nick sensed his intent and stepped in 
  the way, blocking him. Without turning away, he spoke to Vachon. "Take them a 
  safe distance from here," he commanded. "And protect them. I will take care of 
  this." 
  "Nick, you can't," Vachon began. 
  "DO it!" he shouted. Then he reached out with a hand and gave a thought to the 
  wooden staff he had handed to Gary. Instantly the branch crossed the distance 
  and appeared in his hand. He brought it around and struck a stunning blow to 
  the carouche. 
  The couple screamed. Gary stared, in shock and disbelief. Vachon stretched out 
  his arms and herded them back, glancing nervously around his shoulder at Nick. 
  Somehow, the blind vampire appeared larger than life as he unerringly 
  delivered blow after blow to the young carouche, blocking its moves and 
  wearing it down. 
  The carouche fought desperately, but without forethought. It tried brute force 
  and determination, but not cunning. Slowly, it was losing the battle. In one 
  final movement, Nick raised the long staff over his head and plunged it into 
  the carouche's heart. 
  It was over. 
  The woman fainted. Nick heard Vachon hypnotize the man and alter his memories. 
  He roused the woman and did the same for her. "Nick, are you..." 
  Nick brushed him off with a gesture. "Go. Take them home." 
  Vachon slung their still forms over each shoulder and lifted into the sky. 
  When Nick sensed they were gone, he dropped the image of strength he had been 
  projecting. "Gary?" he asked softly. 
  Gary approached him, but he was scared and wary. Then he saw blood on Nick's 
  forehead, and concern gave him courage. "You're hurt," he said. 
  Nick drew in a breath. He felt tired and drained, but he did not think he was 
  injured. The familiar ache in his stomach overwhelmed him at once. He doubled 
  over and heaved. 
  Gary held his shoulders. He waited until the spasms stopped, then he helped 
  Nick to his feet. "It was self-defense," he said. "You had to kill that... 
  that thing." 
  "It was carouche," Nick explained. He would decide later if Gary's memories 
  needed to be altered, but for now he felt he owed him the truth. 
  "And you? What are you? You are no man." 
  "I am vampire," Nick said. Then, to prove his words, he allowed the change. 
  His eyes became golden and his fangs erupted. He heard Gary gasp. "Do not be 
  afraid. I will not hurt you. I am a police detective, sworn to serve and to 
  protect." 
  "This isn't real," Gary denied. 
  "I have shared my secret with you," Nick said. "Now tell me yours. How did you 
  know to be here tonight? All those people you help, and all the lies you tell. 
  What does it mean?" 
  Gary pulled his newspaper from a back pocket. "I read about it in the paper," 
  he said. His voice was steady, indicating truthfulness, yet Nick struggled to 
  understand. 
  "It is tomorrow's paper. I get the news a day early. And if I act, I can 
  sometimes change the outcome. Earlier, it reported that the young couple was 
  mauled by a beast. Now, it reports a benefit concert in the park. The other 
  story no longer exists." 
  "Why you? When did this start?" 
  Gary sighed wearily. "I've asked myself that a thousand times. It started 
  three years ago. I got the paper and the cat the day Lucius Snow died." 
  So, Nick thought. Understanding, like a strong wind, was blowing away the fog 
  of his doubts. Lucius Snow had been preoccupied with the newspaper, and he was 
  always at the heart of a near disaster. Nick had thought he was unlucky. Now, 
  he suspected that the old man had spent his life trying to rescue others. And 
  he had selected Gary to replace him. If Snow felt Gary was worthy, then Nick 
  must have judged him wrong. He extended his hand and waited until Gary reached 
  out hesitantly to take it. 
  "A secret shared binds us." 
  Gary took Nick's hand and placed it through the crook of his arm. Nick looked 
  exhausted and his work was done. He started to walk out of the park, moving 
  slowly, to bring Nick back to the bar. "Your friends are vampire too. That's 
  why they couldn't get off the boat that morning." 
  Nick nodded absently. There was another presence nearby. He focused on it, 
  only half-listening to the mortal. 
  "So what happens to me now? Do you have to kill me? Or wipe my memories away, 
  like Vachon did to the couple?" 
  "He's here, Gary," Nick said, a glimmer of excitement in his voice. "Somewhere 
  close!" 
  "Who?" 
  "My dog!" 
  Gary went where Nick directed, supporting the vampire who was growing weaker 
  by the minute. At the edge of the park, down a dark basement stairs, to the 
  back of a dank, filthy apartment, they found him. 
  Perry was heavily chained, bleeding from a dozen cuts. The smell of garlic was 
  strong, making Nick heave again. When Gary would have gone to the dog, Nick 
  held him back. "We are most dangerous when we are injured or caged," Nick 
  warned. "Stay back." 
  "He is vampire, too?" 
  "No, carouche. A lesser form of vampire, one with the blood of animals." Nick 
  didn't like that definition any longer, as Perry had become a close friend, 
  but he knew no other. 
  Perry tried to raise his head, whining pitiably as he did. Nick felt a wave of 
  guilt. It was his fault the dog had been injured. Perry had been defending 
  him, which would have been unnecessary had he not been blind. Nick hurried to 
  the carouche, snapping the chains almost effortlessly, his rage giving him 
  strength. He tore his wrist open on his fangs and held the wound out for 
  Perry. The carouche accepted the blood offering, feeding from him for a moment 
  only, before closing the wound. 
  Gary approached cautiously. "How can I help," he asked. 
  "Will you feed him?" 
  In an act of faith, Gary hunched down and extended his wrist. Nick brought it 
  to his lips and bit, opening a wound. Gary winced once, but it was not as 
  painful as he would have guessed. The dog lifted his head weakly and accepted 
  the offering, clamping his jaws over the wrist to drink. Gary stared, his fear 
  sweetening his blood, but he held still. Shortly the carouche released him, 
  licking his wrist a few times until the injury had scabbed over and began to 
  fade. The carouche growled menacingly then. 
  Nick stood and backed up, motioning to Gary to follow. Perry stood on unstable 
  legs and slunk past them, then he vanished into the sky. Gary was trembling, 
  overwhelmed. "What about him? Is he going to be alright?" 
  Nick nodded. "He will not harm anyone now. He feeds mostly on rats and 
  squirrels. After he's hunted a while, he will find me." Gary moved closer to 
  him then, and offered his arm. Nick accepted it, trying not to lean on him too 
  heavily. "You're a brave man, Gary Hobson," he said, with begrudging 
  admiration. 
  Gary shrugged off the praise. He didn't feel very brave right now. They walked 
  past the spot where the tree branch was still imbedded in the ground, but the 
  body of the fallen carouche was nothing but dust, the tattered rags of his 
  clothing were blowing in the wind. Gary felt like puking. 
    
    
  Chapter ten: 
  The girls were at the bar, bursting with enthusiasm. Urs and Tracy were 
  proudly displaying their purchases for Marissa to touch, describing to her the 
  color and style and sale price. Tracy was eager to have Nick and Vachon try on 
  some the things they had bought, but Nick declined. "Tomorrow, baby. We found 
  Perry tonight." 
  "That's wonderful," she exclaimed. "Oh, Nick, I'm so happy for you! Where is 
  he?" 
  "Hunting. He'll return shortly." 
  And that was the end of it. They didn't ask to know about his condition, and 
  Nick didn't volunteer the information. He felt Gary's eyes on him, though, and 
  sensed Marissa's discomfort. She cared for them both, and wanted them to be 
  friends. Little did she know that they shared something more dangerous than 
  friendship. The best thing for Gary would be to have his memories altered. He 
  had enough trouble without vampires in his life. But Nick owed him, and more 
  than once. There had to be some way he could help. 
  Shortly, Perry returned. He endured the girls as they patted and welcomed him. 
  Then he went to Nick and growled quietly. His charge had been working to hard. 
  He looked terrible. Perry took his hand and tugged. 
  "I agree," Nick said, following the carouche. "G'night all." 
  ***** 
  Nick's slumber was shortened, as once again Gary shook him. "Come on, Nick, 
  you've got to wake up! We're all in danger!" 
  "What's the paper say," Nick asked sleepily. He sat up and rubbed at his eyes. 

  "Local Bar Burns, Police suspect Arson," Gary began. He read the scanty 
  details. The article didn't mention any casualties, and the explosion occurred 
  between 10:00 and 10:45 AM. 
  "Call the police," Nick suggested, still not quiet awake. 
  "I did. They won't even listen to me any more," Gary said, his exasperation 
  evident. 
  Nick felt the numbers on his watch. It was only 9:30. Time to think. He 
  staggered to his feet. "Vachon put some of our supplies in your refrigerator. 
  Would you bring me one, please?" 
  Gary grumbled anxiously. "We don't have time for this." 
  Nick took the bottle and drained it, feeling a bit more alive. "Sit, think 
  with me. What do we know? Fifteen kids tried to mug us and ran off with my 
  wallet. They got some money, but nothing else. My credit cards were cancelled 
  almost immediately, and they never tried to use them. The wound they gave me 
  would have been fatal, yet they hadn't hurt Marissa. Was I their target all 
  along?" 
  Gary shook his head. "Earlier I had read that Marissa was going to be mugged. 
  I told her to wait at the bar for me and I would drive her home." 
  "Okay. So she wasn't there. The muggers then came after both of us. Maybe they 
  weren't the same muggers?" 
  "Unless, they were, but they saw something that changed their minds," Gary 
  said, starting to brainstorm with him. 
  Nick nodded, a little sheepishly. He could have slipped. He could have flashed 
  them golden eyes or a fanged expression. "So, then they think I am vampire, 
  and they capture my dog, and they blow up my ship. Where would kids get a hold 
  of such explosives? Last I'd heard, street gangs were mostly knives and 
  chains." 
  "These kids must have someone older, more knowledgeable, planning their 
  activities," Gary said. 
  A street gang, with a former member, now adult, rejoining the ranks. Maybe 
  someone recently released? Or, maybe someone old enough to remember the other 
  Nicholas Knight? He thought back furiously. Forty years. Some former street 
  punk, now about fifty-five to sixty years old. 
  "They blew up my boat, but I survived," Nick said. "They must be watching your 
  place. Now they're going to blow up the whole bar, to try to take me down." 
  "And me," Gary said curtly. 
  "I need the telephone." 
  Gary handed him the portable. Nick dialed the operator and waited for the 
  connection to go through. "Nick Knight here," he introduced himself. "I need 
  to speak to Detective Powers immediately." 
  "He isn't on duty now," the clerk responded. 
  "This is an emergency. I will speak to your captain at once!" 
  He was put through, though whether she had acted on her own or from a 
  telewhammy, he wasn't sure. "Captain," Nick said, after introducing himself. 
  "I've learned from an informant that there is going to be a third attempt on 
  my life this morning. I need several unmarked cars surrounding McGinty's Bar 
  immediately. And a bomb specialist. The bomb is already planted. I have my dog 
  looking for it now." 
  He hung up, then called to Perry. He had to use his psychic link, as the 
  carouche, tired from his injuries and the energy spent healing them, was 
  really quite "dead to the world". When the carouche sensed the urgency, he 
  awoke with a growl. 
  "Find a bomb," Nick said. "Somewhere in McGinty's." 
  Perry woofed, as he leaped into action. Gary went to the window to look out. 
  "I think your friends are here already," he said, a little enviously. "Wish I 
  could get them to respect me even just a little." 
  "Take me downstairs," Nick said. "But stay away from sunlight or opened 
  curtains." 
  Perry barked excitedly. Gary opened the door to let in the bomb specialist and 
  the police captain himself. 
  "Get everyone out of here," the specialist cautioned. Gary started to argue, 
  but Nick interrupted. "Everyone's gone," he said. 
  "You too," the captain said, as the specialist had already followed Perry to 
  the basement, where the bomb had been set. 
  "Fine," Nick said. "But I inherited my father's sensitivity to sunlight." 
  The captain nodding knowingly. "Yes, I read about that." He slipped off his 
  own coat and threw it around Nick's shoulders. 
  Nick pulled it up over his head. "Take me to your car then," he commanded. 
  Inside, he talked about his theories, that this gang had an older benefactor, 
  a man in his late fifties or so, who had been sent to prison by Nick's 
  "father". Upon seeing Nick Knight, he decided to get his revenge. "If this is 
  the case, then he might also be responsible for slicing the brake line on that 
  school bus," he said. 
  The captain took down notes. "Thanks, Nick. I'll run through the files, check 
  the records for anyone your dad put away against what we know about their 
  whereabouts now, who's out, who's still in town." 
  It was all Nick could do. He couldn't pick out the likeliest candidates 
  himself, since he wouldn't know his "dad's" cases that well. Maybe it was 
  enough, though. 
  Half an hour later, the bomb specialist contacted them over the radio. "It's 
  done," he said. "Disarmed. You can all come back." 
  Nick touched the police captain first. "This is my friend, Gary Hobson," he 
  said, catching the mortal in his hypnotic grip. "He is a good man. Sometimes 
  he's a little clairvoyant. He knows things before they happen. He can't 
  control this, but if he tells you something is going to happen, you will trust 
  him. The life he saves might be your own." 
  The captain nodded blankly. 
  "Moreover, you will speak highly of Gary Hobson to everyone on your force." 
  "On the force," the captain murmured. 
  "And leave Gary alone. You will not suspect his gift again." 
  The captain was like putty, believing everything. Nick brought him out of it. 
  "Let's go inside, captain," he said. "Maybe Gary has some coffee." 
  "Thanks," the captain said, sounding a little disoriented. "That's great. Any 
  friend of yours is a friend of mine." 
  Gary whispered into Nick's ear. "You didn't have to do that. I manage on my 
  own." 
  "I know," Nick answered. "I can manage alone, as well. But why should I, when 
  I have good friends and family to share the load?" 
  ***** 
  Nick returned to sleep until dark, but then before he even showered he called 
  the Raven. 
  "Hello, LaCroix," he said, when he heard his master answer. 
  "Good evening Nicholas," purred a contented voice. 
  "It's been fun, but I was just going to tell you that we're leaving tonight." 
  "Hm. That is good news. I look forward to your return." 
  "And I'm ready to go back to work. I know I can do it. But, if you don't mind, 
  I'd like to stay on at the Raven." 
  LaCroix was suddenly very much awake, and made a sound of surprise. "You are 
  always welcome, my son." 
  "I know. I just wanted to tell you, that... I'm grateful. Thanks for all 
  you've done for me." 
  "Are you feeling all right, Nicholas?" 
  Nick laughed. "Yes, I am, "Dad." I've never felt better." 
  LaCroix harrumphed at his son's use of Tracy's too-familiar nickname, but 
  secretly he was smiling. "You certainly sound cheerful." 
  "Would you give Nat a hug for me?" 
  "Done." 
  "I, uh... I love you." 
  "I love you, too, Nicholas." 
  Nick replaced the phone on the cradle with a wistful smile. Father Rochefort 
  had been right. He had said that all were blind in some way. Nick had been 
  blind to what was truly important. And now he was not blind any longer. 
  The End.
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